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 Sweden and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Alarm Clocks to the techno 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
DJ Sneak,
The Angels of Light,
Brothers Johnson,
Sex Pistols,
Arab on Radar,
Barry Ungar,
Neu!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brass Construction,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Qualms,
Roxy Music,
Zapp,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jacques Brel,
Hashim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lightning Bolt,
The Smiths,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Susan Cadogan,
Youth Brigade,
Bauhaus,
Donald Byrd,
Patti Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dead Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fela Kuti,
Vainqueur,
Flash Fearless,
Juan Atkins,
Traffic Nightmare,
a-ha,
Ice-T,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joy Division,
EPMD,
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
The Gladiators,
Robert Görl,
Hardrive,
Freddie Wadling,
The Black Dice,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kool Moe Dee,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Lynne,
Radiopuhelimet,
Angry Samoans,
Black Moon,
Stereo Dub,
CMW,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.