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 Mongolia and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba 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 Clear Light to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Age Steppers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Soft Cell,
Delta 5,
Livin' Joy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deadbeat,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Blancmange,
The Offenders,
Ultimate Spinach,
CMW,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Subhumans,
Lebanon Hanover,
MC5,
The Dead C,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Carl Craig,
Surgeon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marshall Jefferson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roxy Music,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Talk Talk,
Laurel Aitken,
Outsiders,
the Sonics,
KRS-One,
These Immortal Souls,
Marine Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Black Sheep,
The Standells,
Arthur Verocai,
Duran Duran,
The Music Machine,
The Toasters,
Susan Cadogan,
10cc,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tim Buckley,
The Selecter,
Joe Finger,
Crispy Ambulance,
Funkadelic,
Tears for Fears,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Visage,
The Star Department,
Mark Hollis,
Chrome,
Amazonics,
The Fuzztones,
Donny Hathaway,
Ten City,
Johnny Clarke,
Henry Cow,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.