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 Romania and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 The Barracudas to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
The Mojo Men,
U.S. Maple,
Man Parrish,
Leonard Cohen,
Cymande,
Panda Bear,
Bootsy Collins,
Electric Prunes,
Donald Byrd,
The Red Krayola,
Stereo Dub,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Essential Logic,
Model 500,
World's Most,
Amazonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Reuben Wilson,
Wolf Eyes,
Crash Course in Science,
Suicide,
Cameo,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fugs,
Mantronix,
Robert Hood,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Durutti Column,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Alison Limerick,
Ten City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
DJ Style,
The Trojans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Slits,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Groovy Waters,
Cal Tjader,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rosa Yemen,
Nirvana,
Royal Trux,
Ponytail,
Duran Duran,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Alton Ellis,
Echospace,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Susan Cadogan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minor Threat,
Circle Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.