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 Equatorial Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 F. McDonald 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yusef Lateef,
T. Rex,
The Remains,
Byron Stingily,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Babytalk,
Jeru the Damaja,
Morten Harket,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ronnie Foster,
Supertramp,
Harry Pussy,
Severed Heads,
Dennis Brown,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barclay James Harvest,
June of 44,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thee Headcoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Trojans,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
Aural Exciters,
Tears for Fears,
Livin' Joy,
Pylon,
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eli Mardock,
Blancmange,
Young Marble Giants,
The Sound,
Japan,
Intrusion,
Janne Schatter,
Minutemen,
The Offenders,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Busters,
World's Most,
T.S.O.L.,
Sällskapet,
A Certain Ratio,
CMW,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Walker Brothers,
Tubeway Army,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Christie,
The Smoke,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Near,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.