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 Ghana and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Quando Quango to the grime 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Bluetip,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fuzztones,
Pulsallama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
Reuben Wilson,
Ludus,
Procol Harum,
Rod Modell,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Cale,
The Zeros,
Outsiders,
Barrington Levy,
Erykah Badu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Maleditus Sound,
The Remains,
Deadbeat,
KRS-One,
The Birthday Party,
Girls At Our Best!,
Colin Newman,
Japan,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Adolescents,
The Searchers,
Warsaw,
Siglo XX,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fad Gadget,
Wasted Youth,
Stiv Bators,
Reagan Youth,
The Last Poets,
Gerry Rafferty,
Faust,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Womack,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Khruangbin,
Magazine,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Technova,
the Association,
Mark Hollis,
Hardrive,
The Litter,
Juan Atkins,
Amon Düül,
John Coltrane,
Clear Light,
Nils Olav,
Gang Gang Dance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DNA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Camberwell Now,
Alphaville,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.