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 Dominica and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Alice Coltrane to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Inner City,
Lou Christie,
The Index,
Sparks,
Desert Stars,
Blossom Toes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sound Behaviour,
Buzzcocks,
Q65,
Idris Muhammad,
Symarip,
Harry Pussy,
Black Sheep,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Duran Duran,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Almond,
Yellowson,
Organ,
the Swans,
Massinfluence,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hasil Adkins,
PIL,
Dave Gahan,
Fat Boys,
Pulsallama,
Rakim,
John Lydon,
Joey Negro,
Kevin Saunderson,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Knickerbockers,
B.T. Express,
Stiv Bators,
David Axelrod,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Dead C,
Gerry Rafferty,
World's Most,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ken Boothe,
The Techniques,
Flipper,
Goldenarms,
Nirvana,
Rosa Yemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood,
Derrick Morgan,
Q and Not U,
The Pop Group,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
China Crisis,
Porter Ricks,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.