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 Guinea-Bissau and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bar-Kays to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gong,
Smog,
Marc Almond,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
These Immortal Souls,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig,
Albert Ayler,
Visage,
Echospace,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Gang Dance,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun City Girls,
Sun Ra,
Desert Stars,
10cc,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
KRS-One,
Lucky Dragons,
OOIOO,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eden Ahbez,
ABC,
Lalann,
Minnie Riperton,
John Coltrane,
The Moody Blues,
Don Cherry,
Fat Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Derrick Morgan,
D'Angelo,
Soft Cell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Angels of Light,
Outsiders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fad Gadget,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Pretty Things,
Terry Callier,
The Young Rascals,
Sparks,
Heaven 17,
Von Mondo,
Soulsonic Force,
Skarface,
Roger Hodgson,
David Bowie,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Little Man,
Kurtis Blow,
Ultra Naté,
Donald Byrd,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.