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 Palau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Robert Palmer 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 The Slits to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
the Bar-Kays,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cybotron,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Slits,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Blues Magoos,
Sound Behaviour,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fluxion,
Symarip,
Tommy Roe,
New York Dolls,
Junior Murvin,
Absolute Body Control,
The Shadows of Knight,
Slick Rick,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Stooges,
Rakim,
Piero Umiliani,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Aural Exciters,
The Beau Brummels,
Whodini,
The Neon Judgement,
Henry Cow,
Mars,
Oblivians,
Babytalk,
June Days,
The Searchers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mission of Burma,
Alton Ellis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soulsonic Force,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
E-Dancer,
Minnie Riperton,
Josef K,
Tears for Fears,
Charles Mingus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nils Olav,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wolf Eyes,
Patti Smith,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
Nico,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.