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 Papua New Guinea and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron 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 Todd Terry to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All John Cale 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 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Reuben Wilson,
Ice-T,
U.S. Maple,
The Durutti Column,
Terry Callier,
Warsaw,
Ossler,
Tom Boy,
Pussy Galore,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerrie Biddell,
Thompson Twins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jesper Dahlback,
LL Cool J,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mission of Burma,
Severed Heads,
Deadbeat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yusef Lateef,
The Standells,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Morten Harket,
Delta 5,
Jeff Mills,
Quantec,
Sparks,
Index,
Brand Nubian,
Arcadia,
Rapeman,
Agent Orange,
The J.B.'s,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mantronix,
Newcleus,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Khruangbin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Judy Mowatt,
Nik Kershaw,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
The Kinks,
Brick,
Soulsonic Force,
ABC,
John Lydon,
PIL,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Supertramp,
Liliput,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.