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 Japan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 In Retrospect 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
The Grass Roots,
The Monks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sex Pistols,
Hasil Adkins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Byrd,
Prince Buster,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy Collins,
The Motions,
Mark Hollis,
A Certain Ratio,
Scion,
Cluster,
Bobby Sherman,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alphaville,
Make Up,
Lungfish,
Crooked Eye,
Kaleidoscope,
Can,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Todd Terry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultravox,
Rotary Connection,
Man Parrish,
The Standells,
The Misunderstood,
Sugar Minott,
Tommy Roe,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
The Dave Clark Five,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pussy Galore,
Lou Reed,
The Slackers,
Juan Atkins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bluetip,
Technova,
Hoover,
Warsaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiohead,
Leonard Cohen,
Rakim,
Sparks,
Gichy Dan,
Arcadia,
June Days,
David McCallum,
Thee Headcoats,
Little Man,
Max Romeo,
Charles Mingus,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.