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 Madagascar and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fat Boys to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Blues Magoos,
Delta 5,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Interpol,
Magma,
Danielle Patucci,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Alarm Clocks,
Los Fastidios,
Maleditus Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agitation Free,
Ponytail,
Black Moon,
Heaven 17,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Tim Buckley,
Albert Ayler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Silicon Teens,
Aaron Thompson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Whodini,
The Mummies,
Sun City Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Lou Reed,
The Smiths,
Lucky Dragons,
Desert Stars,
Warren Ellis,
Buzzcocks,
The Angels of Light,
Banda Bassotti,
The Monochrome Set,
Unwound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Make Up,
The Techniques,
Iggy Pop,
Maurizio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Donald Byrd,
Gastr Del Sol,
H. Thieme,
Roger Hodgson,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pagans,
Simply Red,
Boredoms,
48th St. Collective,
Pylon,
Mark Hollis,
the Germs,
The Dirtbombs,
The Neon Judgement,
The Selecter,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.