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 Uganda and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe 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 Infiniti to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Masters at Work,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
Fifty Foot Hose,
These Immortal Souls,
AZ,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gabor Szabo,
Pylon,
Pantytec,
Funkadelic,
The Gladiators,
Jerry's Kids,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Camberwell Now,
Anthony Braxton,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
L. Decosne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Qualms,
Bill Near,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pierre Henry,
Easy Going,
Ronan,
Das Ding,
Angry Samoans,
Rites of Spring,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eden Ahbez,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Clarke,
Arcadia,
June Days,
The Fortunes,
Outsiders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Camouflage,
The Smoke,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gap Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Alphaville,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
The Five Americans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Half Japanese,
The Modern Lovers,
Prince Buster,
Fear,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.