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 Guyana and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New Christs to the techno 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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wally Richardson,
The Young Rascals,
Gong,
Outsiders,
Lungfish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mr. Review,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Sound Behaviour,
John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
Cal Tjader,
Oblivians,
F. McDonald,
The Divine Comedy,
Essential Logic,
Gang of Four,
Bush Tetras,
Jawbox,
Absolute Body Control,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heaven 17,
MC5,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Rod Modell,
Cecil Taylor,
the Soft Cell,
A Certain Ratio,
Pussy Galore,
Urselle,
Spandau Ballet,
Dead Boys,
The Toasters,
Oneida,
E-Dancer,
Gichy Dan,
Flash Fearless,
Funky Four + One,
Soul Sonic Force,
Crash Course in Science,
Roxy Music,
AZ,
John Holt,
Fad Gadget,
Metal Thangz,
Pole,
cv313,
Sex Pistols,
Todd Rundgren,
Underground Resistance,
Matthew Halsall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.