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 Senegal and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the funk 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
The Misunderstood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Groovy Waters,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nation of Ulysses,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fire Engines,
Steve Hackett,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Associates,
Parry Music,
Marcia Griffiths,
Subhumans,
Supertramp,
Malaria!,
Grauzone,
Big Daddy Kane,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Offenders,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barrington Levy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oblivians,
Josef K,
Cluster,
Livin' Joy,
the Swans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pantytec,
Yaz,
Mars,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül II,
Matthew Halsall,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joey Negro,
the Bar-Kays,
Mary Jane Girls,
T.S.O.L.,
PIL,
Lindisfarne,
Slick Rick,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Dirtbombs,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
Unrelated Segments,
Quando Quango,
Saccharine Trust,
Morten Harket,
Skriet,
Soul II Soul,
Tom Boy,
Echospace,
Judy Mowatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.