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 Seychelles and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Soul Sonic Force to the funk 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brick,
The American Breed,
This Heat,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Tremeloes,
Robert Wyatt,
The Blackbyrds,
T.S.O.L.,
The Grass Roots,
Ten City,
New Age Steppers,
Adolescents,
Eden Ahbez,
Wolf Eyes,
Public Enemy,
Susan Cadogan,
The Monks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bizarre Inc.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magazine,
The Blues Magoos,
Darondo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young,
One Last Wish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Steve Hackett,
Rufus Thomas,
The Beau Brummels,
Malaria!,
Pussy Galore,
Carl Craig,
Urselle,
Pantaleimon,
Matthew Halsall,
The Names,
Archie Shepp,
Alison Limerick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Kinks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Althea and Donna,
Al Stewart,
Prince Buster,
Hot Snakes,
Mad Mike,
Juan Atkins,
The Cramps,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Funky Four + One,
Los Fastidios,
Byron Stingily,
KRS-One,
Lou Christie,
Smog,
The Fall,
The Neon Judgement,
Sugar Minott,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.