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 Moldova and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Last Poets to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Tim Buckley,
Hashim,
Newcleus,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Durutti Column,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Flamin' Groovies,
Average White Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Hot Snakes,
Wire,
The Victims,
Camouflage,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marvin Gaye,
Liliput,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bush Tetras,
KRS-One,
The Invisible,
Lyres,
Bobby Byrd,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Audionom,
The Misunderstood,
Josef K,
The Names,
Whodini,
The Angels of Light,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Searchers,
Q and Not U,
Television Personalities,
Pussy Galore,
Con Funk Shun,
Suburban Knight,
Ultra Naté,
Wasted Youth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thompson Twins,
Lou Christie,
Quando Quango,
Colin Newman,
Popol Vuh,
Nik Kershaw,
Anakelly,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scott Walker,
Gabor Szabo,
Magma,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Bar-Kays,
Matthew Halsall,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.