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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Maurizio to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Fluxion,
Bobby Byrd,
48th St. Collective,
Anthony Braxton,
Henry Cow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roy Ayers,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
ABC,
Rekid,
Minny Pops,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
June Days,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Sonics,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Names,
Matthew Halsall,
The Leaves,
The Knickerbockers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Pus,
Wasted Youth,
Gong,
The American Breed,
Crash Course in Science,
Sound Behaviour,
Goldenarms,
Roxette,
Bobby Sherman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Babytalk,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mummies,
Index,
Colin Newman,
Susan Cadogan,
Pulsallama,
Kerri Chandler,
Intrusion,
Pagans,
Arthur Verocai,
Ossler,
Stiv Bators,
Crispian St. Peters,
Can,
The Moleskins,
The Young Rascals,
U.S. Maple,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siglo XX,
Blancmange,
UT,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Reed,
Oneida,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.