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 Turkey and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
China Crisis,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Names,
The Human League,
The Smoke,
Excepter,
Prince Buster,
Spandau Ballet,
Faraquet,
John Lydon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fear,
Ralphi Rosario,
Susan Cadogan,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fluxion,
Mark Hollis,
The Cramps,
This Heat,
New Age Steppers,
The Black Dice,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Normal,
Minutemen,
Television,
Yusef Lateef,
Marine Girls,
Amon Düül,
Darondo,
The Angels of Light,
Jeff Mills,
The Selecter,
Eurythmics,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sun City Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
The Wake,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nirvana,
Wolf Eyes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Can,
John Foxx,
Duran Duran,
Nas,
Gang Green,
Bauhaus,
Todd Rundgren,
LL Cool J,
Kevin Saunderson,
E-Dancer,
The Count Five,
Country Teasers,
Reuben Wilson,
The Remains,
Kayak,
Grey Daturas,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.