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 Guatemala and from Tokyo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the rap 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Howard Jones,
Circle Jerks,
Spoonie Gee,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Von Mondo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Todd Rundgren,
Q and Not U,
Khruangbin,
Gichy Dan,
Ice-T,
La Düsseldorf,
Yellowson,
The Motions,
Johnny Osbourne,
Quando Quango,
Kenny Larkin,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Star Department,
Jacques Brel,
The Associates,
Arthur Verocai,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bronski Beat,
Marc Almond,
The Smoke,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suicide,
Byron Stingily,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tommy Roe,
Barrington Levy,
Rosa Yemen,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Move,
Lalann,
Niagra,
The Leaves,
The Beau Brummels,
Dark Day,
The Saints,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Aswad,
The Moody Blues,
Ponytail,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
JFA,
Darondo,
The American Breed,
The Wake,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Monks,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Womack,
Roy Ayers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.