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 St Lucia and from Taipei.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barrington Levy to the disco 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Kerri Chandler,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Magma,
The Mummies,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pagans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Graham Central Station,
The Dirtbombs,
X-102,
Minor Threat,
Minutemen,
48th St. Collective,
Ludus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Freddie Wadling,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nik Kershaw,
Harmonia,
Adolescents,
Donald Byrd,
Stiv Bators,
Joe Finger,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Livin' Joy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Busters,
The Beau Brummels,
Mad Mike,
Sound Behaviour,
Don Cherry,
The Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
UT,
Gabor Szabo,
Flash Fearless,
Wings,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mandrill,
The Black Dice,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hardrive,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Accadde A,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jacques Brel,
Second Layer,
Aswad,
The Offenders,
Fugazi,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.