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 Azerbaijan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Archie Shepp to the rap 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Mars,
Kerri Chandler,
The Blackbyrds,
Jacques Brel,
Minor Threat,
Chrome,
A Certain Ratio,
Howard Jones,
The Buckinghams,
Khruangbin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nik Kershaw,
Zapp,
Soul II Soul,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fugs,
Country Teasers,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs,
Unrelated Segments,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Al Stewart,
The Doors,
Cabaret Voltaire,
X-Ray Spex,
The American Breed,
Colin Newman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Index,
Skaos,
Rod Modell,
The Vogues,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pagans,
Talk Talk,
Mandrill,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Pop Group,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Lucky Dragons,
Y Pants,
Lyres,
Jacob Miller,
Rosa Yemen,
John Foxx,
Yazoo,
Eurythmics,
a-ha,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sun City Girls,
MC5,
Juan Atkins,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.