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 Kenya and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scrapy to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Magma,
Lakeside,
The Sound,
Black Moon,
Flipper,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reuben Wilson,
June Days,
Slick Rick,
Wasted Youth,
The Misunderstood,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minny Pops,
Eden Ahbez,
Donny Hathaway,
the Bar-Kays,
Clear Light,
Main Source,
L. Decosne,
Lee Hazlewood,
Glambeats Corp.,
a-ha,
Soulsonic Force,
Harmonia,
Supertramp,
Isaac Hayes,
Deakin,
Dave Gahan,
Sparks,
Danielle Patucci,
John Foxx,
The Seeds,
Los Fastidios,
John Holt,
Lyres,
Sister Nancy,
Aural Exciters,
Kerri Chandler,
Susan Cadogan,
Con Funk Shun,
Sugar Minott,
Mars,
Carl Craig,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Grauzone,
Bill Wells,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Teasers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glenn Branca,
Tom Boy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alphaville,
Charles Mingus,
Motorama,
Stockholm Monsters,
Amon Düül,
Procol Harum,
The Fortunes,
Eric Copeland,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.