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 Bolivia and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Roxy Music to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Traffic Nightmare,
Clear Light,
Lou Reed,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Man Parrish,
Juan Atkins,
The Neon Judgement,
Todd Rundgren,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Toni Rubio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Moon,
Jawbox,
Kaleidoscope,
The Smoke,
Second Layer,
Bill Near,
The Tremeloes,
Main Source,
ABBA,
Index,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Stetsasonic,
Whodini,
Ten City,
Max Romeo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Raincoats,
Grauzone,
Magma,
Michelle Simonal,
Steve Hackett,
Eve St. Jones,
The Black Dice,
Y Pants,
Pussy Galore,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cramps,
Outsiders,
The Happenings,
the Swans,
Pulsallama,
X-Ray Spex,
10cc,
Kool Moe Dee,
The United States of America,
Neil Young,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Barracudas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
Jacob Miller,
Quantec,
Cymande,
The Cure,
Hoover,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.