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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lucky Dragons to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
The Angels of Light,
Pulsallama,
Todd Terry,
Livin' Joy,
Interpol,
Fat Boys,
Newcleus,
Tommy Roe,
Sun City Girls,
The Happenings,
Groovy Waters,
Laurel Aitken,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deakin,
Susan Cadogan,
Erykah Badu,
Sister Nancy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lightning Bolt,
Warren Ellis,
Easy Going,
Y Pants,
These Immortal Souls,
Fela Kuti,
Massinfluence,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
Bad Manners,
Ornette Coleman,
Kevin Saunderson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Desert Stars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Moby Grape,
Aural Exciters,
Dual Sessions,
Cal Tjader,
Derrick Morgan,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric B and Rakim,
OOIOO,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Mojo Men,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bronski Beat,
Masters at Work,
Yaz,
Janne Schatter,
E-Dancer,
The Monks,
Lou Christie,
Kerri Chandler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Glenn Branca,
Kaleidoscope,
Sex Pistols,
Yazoo,
New York Dolls,
This Heat,
Cymande,
the Sonics,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.