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 Panama and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 808 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the rock 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Scott Walker,
Rotary Connection,
The Associates,
Massinfluence,
Byron Stingily,
Alice Coltrane,
The Durutti Column,
Bob Dylan,
Buzzcocks,
the Bar-Kays,
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quadrant,
D'Angelo,
The Busters,
Darondo,
John Coltrane,
Echospace,
The Fortunes,
Lou Reed,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Byrd,
The Gun Club,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fad Gadget,
Saccharine Trust,
T. Rex,
ABBA,
K-Klass,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wings,
Barbara Tucker,
Excepter,
Yellowson,
cv313,
Harpers Bizarre,
Technova,
The Barracudas,
Terry Callier,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Martian,
Average White Band,
The Index,
Throbbing Gristle,
OOIOO,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Maleditus Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
John Foxx,
Bauhaus,
Howard Jones,
Little Man,
Aural Exciters,
Flash Fearless,
Matthew Halsall,
Neu!,
Hashim,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.