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 Libya and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rekid to the grime 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Judy Mowatt,
The Angels of Light,
Eurythmics,
The Slackers,
Franke,
Gang Starr,
New Age Steppers,
Jacques Brel,
Spoonie Gee,
Roger Hodgson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers,
This Heat,
Eric Copeland,
Todd Terry,
Yellowson,
Wolf Eyes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Gang Gang Dance,
Donald Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Saints,
The Selecter,
Swell Maps,
The Doobie Brothers,
Neil Young,
Byron Stingily,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxy Music,
Mad Mike,
World's Most,
John Foxx,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Siglo XX,
Minnie Riperton,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soft Cell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Derrick May,
The Smiths,
Scan 7,
Bill Wells,
Basic Channel,
Saccharine Trust,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
Altered Images,
Magazine,
Joe Smooth,
Charles Mingus,
Oneida,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jeru the Damaja,
Anthony Braxton,
Scion,
Chris Corsano,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.