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 Estonia and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Joy Division to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
China Crisis,
Rekid,
Nation of Ulysses,
Public Enemy,
The Fortunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Misunderstood,
Clear Light,
the Association,
Bobby Byrd,
The Litter,
Theoretical Girls,
Parry Music,
The Residents,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Harmonia,
Jerry's Kids,
Scott Walker,
Robert Hood,
the Germs,
Lakeside,
Leonard Cohen,
Agitation Free,
Monks,
New Order,
The Raincoats,
The Victims,
Nirvana,
Rosa Yemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Starr,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sam Rivers,
The Pop Group,
Skarface,
The Monks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Altered Images,
Sight & Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marvin Gaye,
John Holt,
The Fire Engines,
F. McDonald,
Gabor Szabo,
Moebius,
Avey Tare,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
Letta Mbulu,
Supertramp,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Vogues,
Erykah Badu,
Interpol,
Sexual Harrassment,
World's Most,
The Standells,
Steve Hackett,
Aural Exciters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.