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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fatback Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Womack,
Absolute Body Control,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bronski Beat,
The Fall,
The Dead C,
Magma,
Radio Birdman,
Khruangbin,
Agitation Free,
The Busters,
Make Up,
Sugar Minott,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Clarke,
Surgeon,
Alison Limerick,
Fatback Band,
Aaron Thompson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Evens,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Smooth,
Arcadia,
Moby Grape,
Gang of Four,
Delon & Dalcan,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Offenders,
Eddi Front,
Gong,
Chrome,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wally Richardson,
Neu!,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Grass Roots,
In Retrospect,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Royal Trux,
Deepchord,
The Knickerbockers,
The Tremeloes,
Mr. Review,
Derrick May,
The Divine Comedy,
Hardrive,
Popol Vuh,
Yellowson,
La Düsseldorf,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Walker Brothers,
Franke,
The Blackbyrds,
The Invisible,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.