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 Belize and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 B.T. Express to the grunge 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
World's Most,
Dark Day,
Warren Ellis,
Los Fastidios,
DJ Style,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cymande,
John Foxx,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Stooges,
Tubeway Army,
Fear,
Schoolly D,
Pantaleimon,
Radio Birdman,
AZ,
Moebius,
Gang of Four,
The Birthday Party,
The J.B.'s,
The Young Rascals,
John Lydon,
Essential Logic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Byrd,
Skriet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suicide,
New Age Steppers,
The Index,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Buzzcocks,
Ice-T,
the Soft Cell,
Skaos,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
MDC,
John Holt,
Rekid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Gabor Szabo,
Al Stewart,
Jeru the Damaja,
Junior Murvin,
The Victims,
Fluxion,
Inner City,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wally Richardson,
R.M.O.,
Oblivians,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Blues Magoos,
Man Parrish,
The Happenings,
Groovy Waters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Urselle,
Pylon,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.