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 Belize and from London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Red Krayola to the grime 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Slick Rick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Slits,
Alphaville,
Symarip,
Mission of Burma,
Idris Muhammad,
The Names,
Scan 7,
The Tremeloes,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mojo Men,
Unwound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monks,
Matthew Halsall,
Funky Four + One,
New Order,
Flash Fearless,
Bobby Womack,
Qualms,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mo-Dettes,
Mandrill,
Bootsy Collins,
Grey Daturas,
Kurtis Blow,
Fugazi,
Robert Hood,
Skarface,
Roxy Music,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Japan,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Bourne,
Arcadia,
Surgeon,
Chrome,
Gang Starr,
Sound Behaviour,
Main Source,
The Kinks,
Icehouse,
Fort Wilson Riot,
KRS-One,
Vainqueur,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott Heron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Motions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
Nico,
Hoover,
The Trojans,
Ituana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James White and The Blacks,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.