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 Gambia and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Donald Fagen 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 Gang Starr to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quadrant record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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?
Josef K,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers,
Howard Jones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Youth Brigade,
Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
Wire,
Susan Cadogan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Bananas,
Scientists,
Pagans,
Andrew Hill,
Sam Rivers,
L. Decosne,
Tubeway Army,
The Cure,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gladiators,
Supertramp,
The Selecter,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slackers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
This Heat,
The United States of America,
Lalann,
Bill Near,
The Motions,
Donald Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
10cc,
Don Cherry,
Neu!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nico,
Angry Samoans,
Jawbox,
Pussy Galore,
The Techniques,
Brothers Johnson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
These Immortal Souls,
Tres Demented,
Bad Manners,
Hardrive,
EPMD,
Iggy Pop,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ituana,
The Dead C,
Grauzone,
Bluetip,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scratch Acid,
Godley & Creme,
The Monks,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.