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 Iceland and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Girls At Our Best! to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Minnie Riperton,
48th St. Collective,
Parry Music,
Hashim,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Pagans,
Icehouse,
Deadbeat,
Fugazi,
H. Thieme,
Popol Vuh,
Liliput,
Jacques Brel,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bootsy Collins,
Oblivians,
Gang Gang Dance,
Faraquet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Iggy Pop,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Clarke,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
Aloha Tigers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Misunderstood,
LL Cool J,
Bush Tetras,
Boz Scaggs,
Neu!,
The Motions,
Ohio Players,
Rites of Spring,
Loose Ends,
Qualms,
Henry Cow,
Scratch Acid,
Aural Exciters,
John Lydon,
Matthew Halsall,
Moebius,
the Sonics,
Interpol,
The Tremeloes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Funky Four + One,
Black Bananas,
Blossom Toes,
The Velvet Underground,
Roy Ayers,
Grey Daturas,
David Axelrod,
Black Moon,
Shuggie Otis,
Suicide,
Kevin Saunderson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Barracudas,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.