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 Djibouti and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Prince Buster to the dance 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Mary Jane Girls,
New Age Steppers,
Swans,
Porter Ricks,
Robert Wyatt,
Essential Logic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Connie Case,
The Names,
The Human League,
Big Daddy Kane,
Maleditus Sound,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Divine Comedy,
Index,
Ronan,
Joyce Sims,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tommy Roe,
Duran Duran,
Nils Olav,
Y Pants,
The Golliwogs,
Rakim,
the Association,
Soul II Soul,
Chris Corsano,
F. McDonald,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Clear Light,
The Gladiators,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Von Mondo,
Panda Bear,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Wake,
Cameo,
Deepchord,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Junior Murvin,
Liliput,
The Moody Blues,
The Busters,
The Litter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kenny Larkin,
Rekid,
China Crisis,
Quadrant,
Camberwell Now,
Wally Richardson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Inner City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Drexciya,
Half Japanese,
Lou Reed,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Simply Red,
Skaos,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.