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 Somalia and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro 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 World's Most to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mo-Dettes,
Altered Images,
Gabor Szabo,
Parry Music,
One Last Wish,
Soul II Soul,
Reuben Wilson,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
The Standells,
The Move,
The Sonics,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rotary Connection,
Matthew Halsall,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Slits,
Clear Light,
Lightning Bolt,
The Durutti Column,
Tres Demented,
K-Klass,
The Young Rascals,
Harry Pussy,
The Music Machine,
Yaz,
Dennis Brown,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cymande,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Althea and Donna,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Main Source,
The Mojo Men,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Terrestrial Tones,
Au Pairs,
Junior Murvin,
Young Marble Giants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pet Shop Boys,
R.M.O.,
Black Moon,
the Germs,
Magazine,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ken Boothe,
Swans,
The Vogues,
Anakelly,
The Smoke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pussy Galore,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.