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 Grenada and from Columbus.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dennis Brown to the disco 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Danielle Patucci,
UT,
Iggy Pop,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Count Five,
Q and Not U,
The Skatalites,
Urselle,
Wolf Eyes,
Susan Cadogan,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
Model 500,
Adolescents,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Robert Hood,
Black Sheep,
Man Parrish,
Sound Behaviour,
Max Romeo,
Byron Stingily,
Joe Finger,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
Sly & The Family Stone,
a-ha,
Robert Wyatt,
The Music Machine,
The Durutti Column,
One Last Wish,
Dennis Brown,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mark Hollis,
Kurtis Blow,
Michelle Simonal,
Jeff Lynne,
Radio Birdman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Offenders,
Outsiders,
Lebanon Hanover,
Monks,
Franke,
Tears for Fears,
Sun Ra,
the Bar-Kays,
Faust,
The Victims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dual Sessions,
Pussy Galore,
Deadbeat,
Maleditus Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
Au Pairs,
The Young Rascals,
Ash Ra Tempel,
James White and The Blacks,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.