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 Albania and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Pussy Galore to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Animal Collective,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Fraelich,
The Blues Magoos,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Star Department,
Roxette,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pierre Henry,
The Sound,
Inner City,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Zeros,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Porter Ricks,
Fela Kuti,
Man Parrish,
Traffic Nightmare,
Q65,
Grey Daturas,
Cecil Taylor,
Deepchord,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Y Pants,
Suicide,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Machine,
Tomorrow,
Quantec,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Image Ltd.,
AZ,
Yazoo,
Nico,
Marshall Jefferson,
Howard Jones,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Infiniti,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Red Krayola,
Radiohead,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Judy Mowatt,
Wings,
KRS-One,
The Cramps,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
Tubeway Army,
The Trojans,
Donald Byrd,
Graham Central Station,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.