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 South Sudan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joey Negro to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
DJ Sneak,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brand Nubian,
The Names,
The Trojans,
Crime,
Glenn Branca,
Television Personalities,
Piero Umiliani,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Almond,
The Buckinghams,
Whodini,
Sunsets and Hearts,
DJ Style,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Association,
Dual Sessions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Faust,
Accadde A,
The Busters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
Pagans,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Certain Ratio,
KRS-One,
Chris Corsano,
Trumans Water,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Television,
The Vogues,
Spoonie Gee,
Boogie Down Productions,
Oblivians,
Maurizio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Zeros,
Hoover,
The Move,
Max Romeo,
Smog,
Arthur Verocai,
Joey Negro,
Desert Stars,
Qualms,
Alphaville,
Pantaleimon,
Ornette Coleman,
Flipper,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Eddi Front,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.