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 Poland 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Matthew Bourne to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris Corsano record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Lalann,
The Gladiators,
The Gories,
Tomorrow,
Rekid,
Pantaleimon,
Crash Course in Science,
Danielle Patucci,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Intrusion,
Con Funk Shun,
Jesper Dahlback,
Spandau Ballet,
ABBA,
Heaven 17,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cecil Taylor,
Severed Heads,
Vainqueur,
Q and Not U,
Black Sheep,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bang On A Can,
Eddi Front,
Anakelly,
Young Marble Giants,
The Last Poets,
Nils Olav,
Ken Boothe,
Fat Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Josef K,
Steve Hackett,
Theoretical Girls,
Quantec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
June of 44,
Wolf Eyes,
Bluetip,
Morten Harket,
Tom Boy,
Arab on Radar,
Stiv Bators,
The Mojo Men,
Cymande,
Visage,
The Divine Comedy,
Adolescents,
Interpol,
Banda Bassotti,
Grey Daturas,
Godley & Creme,
Chris Corsano,
Prince Buster,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Neon Judgement,
The Moleskins,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.