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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cosmic Jokers 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Morten Harket,
The Victims,
The Skatalites,
Man Eating Sloth,
Reuben Wilson,
Piero Umiliani,
Yaz,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
F. McDonald,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Slits,
John Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Sex Pistols,
The Evens,
Skriet,
Amon Düül II,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Section 25,
The Monks,
Blossom Toes,
Warsaw,
Darondo,
Matthew Halsall,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chris & Cosey,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
Severed Heads,
Inner City,
Eddi Front,
Pantaleimon,
The Star Department,
New Order,
X-101,
Bobby Sherman,
Bush Tetras,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lindisfarne,
Man Parrish,
Lakeside,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Accadde A,
Kerri Chandler,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Black Pus,
Warren Ellis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roy Ayers,
Mantronix,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.