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 Comoros and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Kayak to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Jacob Miller,
Bad Manners,
The Durutti Column,
June of 44,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stockholm Monsters,
Parry Music,
Lakeside,
Aswad,
Alison Limerick,
Sonic Youth,
Echospace,
The Move,
Pantaleimon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Main Source,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sonics,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick May,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
David Bowie,
Sixth Finger,
Siglo XX,
The Last Poets,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jimmy McGriff,
New Age Steppers,
Unwound,
Derrick Morgan,
Minny Pops,
Banda Bassotti,
Mars,
Harry Pussy,
Crooked Eye,
Loose Ends,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Frankie Knuckles,
Iggy Pop,
The Fugs,
One Last Wish,
The Walker Brothers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shuggie Otis,
Boredoms,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Darondo,
Masters at Work,
Lou Reed,
Essential Logic,
Amazonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
Oneida,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sound Behaviour,
Cluster,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.