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 Mozambique and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Newcleus 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Hardrive,
Yazoo,
Whodini,
Mantronix,
Dawn Penn,
Unwound,
Swans,
Alphaville,
Man Parrish,
Marmalade,
James White and The Blacks,
Ten City,
Quando Quango,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soulsonic Force,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hashim,
Motorama,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Flamin' Groovies,
Derrick Morgan,
Wolf Eyes,
Scott Walker,
Tropical Tobacco,
Public Enemy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Underground Resistance,
Ohio Players,
Yusef Lateef,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
John Lydon,
Neil Young,
Lalo Schifrin,
F. McDonald,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rekid,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rites of Spring,
The Invisible,
Marshall Jefferson,
Darondo,
Loose Ends,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Music Machine,
Pole,
DJ Style,
The Offenders,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roger Hodgson,
Thee Headcoats,
New Age Steppers,
Lakeside,
Jacques Brel,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.