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 Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Shuggie Otis to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
The Wake,
The Selecter,
Joe Finger,
The Smiths,
Funkadelic,
Marc Almond,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Massinfluence,
The Kinks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eddi Front,
Slick Rick,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eden Ahbez,
Young Marble Giants,
Erasure,
A Certain Ratio,
Surgeon,
The Toasters,
Heaven 17,
Fifty Foot Hose,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pere Ubu,
Mo-Dettes,
Aloha Tigers,
Laurel Aitken,
Camberwell Now,
Hasil Adkins,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Dolphy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eli Mardock,
Harmonia,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fugs,
Henry Cow,
Archie Shepp,
Model 500,
Soul II Soul,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter & Gordon,
The Saints,
Skarface,
The Fuzztones,
Tubeway Army,
Groovy Waters,
Iggy Pop,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Prince Buster,
Cymande,
Urselle,
Bootsy Collins,
Cal Tjader,
the Normal,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Velvet Underground,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.