Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Somalia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Slick Rick to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Dave Gahan,
The Motions,
Swans,
The Smiths,
The Fortunes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Y Pants,
Suicide,
Delta 5,
Popol Vuh,
X-102,
The Real Kids,
Sixth Finger,
The Selecter,
Fluxion,
Sällskapet,
Yaz,
Fat Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Aswad,
K-Klass,
Gang Starr,
The Count Five,
Sun Ra,
The Stooges,
Newcleus,
Erasure,
Tres Demented,
Simply Red,
The Young Rascals,
Bob Dylan,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Gories,
Scientists,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Suburban Knight,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Altered Images,
Gang Gang Dance,
Subhumans,
The Neon Judgement,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Juan Atkins,
Average White Band,
The Buckinghams,
The Litter,
Dark Day,
Brand Nubian,
Essential Logic,
Darondo,
Echospace,
Young Marble Giants,
Grauzone,
Man Eating Sloth,
Godley & Creme,
Clear Light,
These Immortal Souls,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.