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 Guinea and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ralphi Rosario to the punk 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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Q65,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Underground Resistance,
F. McDonald,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hardrive,
Henry Cow,
Funkadelic,
Althea and Donna,
A Certain Ratio,
Intrusion,
Johnny Osbourne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Piero Umiliani,
Japan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blancmange,
Wings,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Blackbyrds,
John Holt,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
Bobby Sherman,
Dark Day,
Eli Mardock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang of Four,
Swell Maps,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeff Lynne,
the Germs,
The Move,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Camberwell Now,
Urselle,
Yaz,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bill Wells,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
Suicide,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Al Stewart,
Soul II Soul,
Amon Düül II,
David Bowie,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nik Kershaw,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amon Düül,
Nas,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.