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 San Marino and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mo-Dettes to the funk 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Joe Finger,
Rapeman,
Fugazi,
Archie Shepp,
OOIOO,
Sam Rivers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Spoonie Gee,
Liliput,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Tremeloes,
Gang Starr,
Robert Hood,
Blake Baxter,
Technova,
DNA,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Banda Bassotti,
Joensuu 1685,
Sugar Minott,
Ten City,
The Slits,
Lou Christie,
The Mojo Men,
Blossom Toes,
Franke,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Durutti Column,
Duran Duran,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sister Nancy,
Silicon Teens,
Stetsasonic,
The Cure,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Theoretical Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Dark Day,
Graham Central Station,
Simply Red,
cv313,
Index,
Dual Sessions,
Radio Birdman,
Fat Boys,
The Raincoats,
The Move,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Minor Threat,
Donny Hathaway,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Spandau Ballet,
Essential Logic,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Bourne,
Soft Cell,
Joy Division,
Adolescents,
The Wake,
The Angels of Light,
Lower 48,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.