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 Sweden and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer 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 Pierre Henry to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Yaz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Evens,
Lee Hazlewood,
cv313,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Letta Mbulu,
Ken Boothe,
Deadbeat,
Lightning Bolt,
R.M.O.,
Minnie Riperton,
Soul II Soul,
Amazonics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
Danielle Patucci,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Underground Resistance,
Con Funk Shun,
Ituana,
Todd Terry,
Brand Nubian,
Buzzcocks,
The Index,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Saccharine Trust,
Ultimate Spinach,
World's Most,
Magma,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Moody Blues,
Funky Four + One,
Amon Düül,
Susan Cadogan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Porter Ricks,
Jawbox,
The Victims,
Royal Trux,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Graham Central Station,
The Moleskins,
Isaac Hayes,
Al Stewart,
B.T. Express,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dirtbombs,
Delta 5,
10cc,
The Electric Prunes,
Monks,
The Star Department,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.