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 Montenegro and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 Suicide to the jazz 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Pop Group,
Sarah Menescal,
June of 44,
DNA,
Robert Görl,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Laurel Aitken,
Sixth Finger,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Slackers,
The Slits,
Malaria!,
Goldenarms,
The Blues Magoos,
Isaac Hayes,
Aural Exciters,
Roger Hodgson,
Public Enemy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Buzzcocks,
Ken Boothe,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Standells,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nirvana,
Black Sheep,
the Slits,
Archie Shepp,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eddi Front,
Robert Wyatt,
The Move,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Niagra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Urselle,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gladiators,
Intrusion,
Derrick Morgan,
Minutemen,
Surgeon,
Neu!,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gang of Four,
Organ,
KRS-One,
Blancmange,
Sun Ra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Technova,
Au Pairs,
The Fortunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.