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 United States and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Pantaleimon to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Royal Trux,
Rod Modell,
Pylon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
Sugar Minott,
Scientists,
Unwound,
Kaleidoscope,
Circle Jerks,
These Immortal Souls,
The Selecter,
Peter and Kerry,
Barry Ungar,
Freddie Wadling,
Lower 48,
The Mojo Men,
Warren Ellis,
John Coltrane,
Moby Grape,
Lakeside,
The Sonics,
Deepchord,
Nik Kershaw,
The Zeros,
Newcleus,
Flash Fearless,
Trumans Water,
Section 25,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Kurtis Blow,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Pop Group,
Shuggie Otis,
Jacques Brel,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bad Manners,
Jacob Miller,
Swell Maps,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Flag,
John Holt,
Little Man,
The Busters,
James White and The Blacks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Al Stewart,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sarah Menescal,
Rakim,
Sam Rivers,
The Moleskins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harmonia,
Archie Shepp,
Visage,
Flamin' Groovies,
Shoche,
Sun Ra,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.