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 Finland and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Man Parrish 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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed,
Alison Limerick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Sherman,
Malaria!,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magazine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Soft Cell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Archie Shepp,
Scott Walker,
One Last Wish,
Blossom Toes,
Porter Ricks,
UT,
Colin Newman,
Mandrill,
Bush Tetras,
The United States of America,
DJ Style,
The Moody Blues,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ossler,
Hashim,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
Agent Orange,
Simply Red,
Q65,
Crime,
Deadbeat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dead Boys,
The Invisible,
Minny Pops,
Talk Talk,
Al Stewart,
Index,
Sun City Girls,
Camberwell Now,
The Black Dice,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
ABBA,
Niagra,
Flipper,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mantronix,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.