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 South Sudan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 Eric Copeland to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Roger Hodgson,
Nirvana,
Magazine,
MDC,
John Holt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Slick Rick,
Los Fastidios,
Dark Day,
Black Bananas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Anthony Braxton,
Severed Heads,
Lebanon Hanover,
Reagan Youth,
Archie Shepp,
Maurizio,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Quando Quango,
Pere Ubu,
The Black Dice,
The Gladiators,
Metal Thangz,
Boz Scaggs,
Anakelly,
Vainqueur,
the Human League,
Siglo XX,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantaleimon,
Unwound,
John Coltrane,
Motorama,
DJ Style,
The Fortunes,
Make Up,
Nik Kershaw,
Silicon Teens,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Smoke,
Inner City,
E-Dancer,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cecil Taylor,
Alton Ellis,
Roxy Music,
The Tremeloes,
Brothers Johnson,
The Remains,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Green,
Black Flag,
Scott Walker,
Radiohead,
Half Japanese,
Adolescents,
Nico,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fall,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.