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 Nepal and from Accra.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the grunge 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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Mo-Dettes,
The Durutti Column,
Reagan Youth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Standells,
Gang of Four,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
The Black Dice,
Rekid,
Shoche,
The Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Simply Red,
Hoover,
Accadde A,
Grauzone,
Icehouse,
The Move,
Mad Mike,
Schoolly D,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Boredoms,
Flash Fearless,
Country Teasers,
Gichy Dan,
48th St. Collective,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Morten Harket,
Dave Gahan,
June of 44,
Anakelly,
The Dead C,
Sister Nancy,
Barbara Tucker,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cecil Taylor,
Bill Near,
Donny Hathaway,
The Divine Comedy,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Hasil Adkins,
the Germs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Yazoo,
Roxy Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Suicide,
Max Romeo,
Hot Snakes,
Make Up,
Ken Boothe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Graham Central Station,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.