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 Taiwan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Dirtbombs to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
The Busters,
Funky Four + One,
Black Pus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Birthday Party,
Inner City,
the Slits,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
Lindisfarne,
the Bar-Kays,
Janne Schatter,
Camberwell Now,
UT,
Scratch Acid,
Gang of Four,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
The New Christs,
Lalann,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Minor Threat,
Yaz,
Eden Ahbez,
Magma,
Ice-T,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eurythmics,
Sun Ra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris & Cosey,
Rekid,
Godley & Creme,
The Pop Group,
The Blues Magoos,
Fatback Band,
Magazine,
The Fall,
Mission of Burma,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yellowson,
Tres Demented,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Chrome,
Altered Images,
Eli Mardock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gichy Dan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mary Jane Girls,
Y Pants,
Q65,
Moebius,
Bill Near,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monochrome Set,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef.
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.