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 Mozambique and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Dice to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
These Immortal Souls,
Jandek,
The Misunderstood,
Darondo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Royal Trux,
Rhythm & Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Durutti Column,
Al Stewart,
Mr. Review,
The Music Machine,
Aswad,
The Skatalites,
Peter & Gordon,
Tres Demented,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Bananas,
Duran Duran,
Reuben Wilson,
Camberwell Now,
Livin' Joy,
The Move,
Soul II Soul,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Donny Hathaway,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sugar Minott,
The Grass Roots,
Lucky Dragons,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Remains,
Smog,
Y Pants,
Brass Construction,
Amazonics,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
Zero Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Graham Central Station,
Heaven 17,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bronski Beat,
Lungfish,
Mission of Burma,
Franke,
Josef K,
The Selecter,
UT,
Scratch Acid,
Boredoms,
Visage,
Colin Newman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jerry's Kids,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.