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 Liberia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the techno 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Fat Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Dorothy Ashby,
Babytalk,
Stereo Dub,
Howard Jones,
Can,
Radiohead,
Swell Maps,
Duran Duran,
Saccharine Trust,
Suicide,
Lalann,
The Red Krayola,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Wake,
Hot Snakes,
Nick Fraelich,
Television Personalities,
Lyres,
Gang of Four,
Swans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roxy Music,
Davy DMX,
Harmonia,
John Coltrane,
Michelle Simonal,
The Toasters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New Order,
Minnie Riperton,
Ohio Players,
Dawn Penn,
Hashim,
Maleditus Sound,
Neu!,
The Golliwogs,
Max Romeo,
Talk Talk,
Radio Birdman,
Agent Orange,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pet Shop Boys,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Moon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Monks,
John Holt,
Trumans Water,
Moby Grape,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Slackers,
Y Pants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
X-101,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.