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 Haiti and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba 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 The Raincoats to the funk 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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Outsiders,
New Order,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pantytec,
Malaria!,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Evens,
Cecil Taylor,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Erykah Badu,
Arab on Radar,
Au Pairs,
Jawbox,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vladislav Delay,
Anakelly,
PIL,
The Cure,
The Gun Club,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fatback Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pierre Henry,
Interpol,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Derrick May,
The Kinks,
Smog,
Qualms,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Absolute Body Control,
Niagra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Foxx,
Flash Fearless,
Rosa Yemen,
June of 44,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tom Boy,
Mark Hollis,
Rufus Thomas,
Minutemen,
Loose Ends,
Basic Channel,
Depeche Mode,
Slick Rick,
Arthur Verocai,
Moby Grape,
Saccharine Trust,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.