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 Mexico and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator 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 Fortunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Absolute Body Control,
Rod Modell,
The Toasters,
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grauzone,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jacob Miller,
Minny Pops,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fall,
The Angels of Light,
Brand Nubian,
Grandmaster Flash,
Depeche Mode,
Barbara Tucker,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Agent Orange,
Graham Central Station,
Warren Ellis,
Neil Young,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siglo XX,
Infiniti,
John Cale,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gap Band,
Stiv Bators,
The Blues Magoos,
Iggy Pop,
Gang of Four,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rufus Thomas,
Mo-Dettes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Blossom Toes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ultra Naté,
Don Cherry,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Velvet Underground,
Nils Olav,
Bill Wells,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
Blancmange,
Cymande,
Popol Vuh,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
Wasted Youth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bizarre Inc.,
DJ Sneak,
Dawn Penn,
T.S.O.L.,
Tears for Fears,
Derrick May,
The Real Kids,
The Trojans,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.