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 Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet 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 Mad Mike to the punk 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Ronnie Foster,
Rosa Yemen,
Japan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hoover,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Inner City,
Althea and Donna,
Scratch Acid,
Black Flag,
A Certain Ratio,
Josef K,
Essential Logic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sister Nancy,
The Durutti Column,
Hasil Adkins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sandy B,
Sugar Minott,
Chrome,
Radio Birdman,
Main Source,
Porter Ricks,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
Warsaw,
Lyres,
Scion,
Dead Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Monks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dead C,
T.S.O.L.,
John Holt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Glambeats Corp.,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
Fluxion,
Connie Case,
Roxette,
Interpol,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lalann,
Radiohead,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fire Engines,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Blake Baxter,
Junior Murvin,
48th St. Collective,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Bar-Kays,
The Leaves,
Fugazi,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.