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 Philippines and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar 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 The Angels of Light to the funk 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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Simply Red,
Johnny Clarke,
Juan Atkins,
Index,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris & Cosey,
LL Cool J,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monochrome Set,
Metal Thangz,
Chrome,
Angry Samoans,
Crash Course in Science,
New York Dolls,
Deakin,
Jawbox,
X-Ray Spex,
Motorama,
Colin Newman,
OOIOO,
The Walker Brothers,
Depeche Mode,
New Age Steppers,
Reuben Wilson,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Chris Corsano,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Aural Exciters,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Five Americans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Absolute Body Control,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Skatalites,
Dead Boys,
Banda Bassotti,
EPMD,
Rites of Spring,
The Human League,
Yazoo,
The Buckinghams,
Wings,
Matthew Bourne,
Stetsasonic,
Tim Buckley,
Pole,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Fall,
The Fuzztones,
Lungfish,
Carl Craig,
Blancmange,
Fatback Band,
Franke,
David Bowie,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Icehouse,
Inner City,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.