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 Senegal and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Slits to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Crispy Ambulance,
Niagra,
Eddi Front,
The Electric Prunes,
Wally Richardson,
Anakelly,
Alison Limerick,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Index,
The Fall,
Amon Düül II,
James White and The Blacks,
The Standells,
Slick Rick,
Carl Craig,
Trumans Water,
Hardrive,
Arthur Verocai,
Minny Pops,
the Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roger Hodgson,
Sixth Finger,
These Immortal Souls,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang of Four,
Loose Ends,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sister Nancy,
Country Teasers,
The Victims,
Chris & Cosey,
Funky Four + One,
Malaria!,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fat Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ronan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yellowson,
La Düsseldorf,
Mission of Burma,
Skarface,
Porter Ricks,
Altered Images,
Adolescents,
Cameo,
Henry Cow,
Black Pus,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Cure,
Camouflage,
Alton Ellis,
Josef K,
Half Japanese,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Grass Roots,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.