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 Armenia and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott Heron to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Jerry's Kids,
Andrew Hill,
U.S. Maple,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Smoke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Mummies,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ice-T,
Inner City,
Magazine,
Ultravox,
Dennis Brown,
The Neon Judgement,
Goldenarms,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Searchers,
Slave,
The Birthday Party,
Outsiders,
The Sonics,
Swans,
The Pretty Things,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Urselle,
Prince Buster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bob Dylan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rites of Spring,
Surgeon,
Erasure,
Funky Four + One,
Roy Ayers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Pus,
Country Teasers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Moebius,
Crash Course in Science,
D'Angelo,
Sugar Minott,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mojo Men,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eve St. Jones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nick Fraelich,
The Cowsills,
the Soft Cell,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
Maleditus Sound,
Sandy B,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gap Band,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.