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 Sierra Leone 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Iggy Pop to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Bobby Womack,
Section 25,
Sonic Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
Procol Harum,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Graham Central Station,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
Stereo Dub,
Tomorrow,
Lalann,
Judy Mowatt,
These Immortal Souls,
R.M.O.,
Letta Mbulu,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tres Demented,
The Smiths,
Rites of Spring,
Make Up,
Reuben Wilson,
A Certain Ratio,
Roy Ayers,
Minutemen,
The Moody Blues,
Gong,
Sarah Menescal,
Organ,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Almond,
Amon Düül,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jacques Brel,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare,
Monolake,
Stetsasonic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Young Rascals,
Second Layer,
Gregory Isaacs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Dennis Brown,
Moby Grape,
Cheater Slicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tommy Roe,
The Doors,
Grauzone,
Shuggie Otis,
Brick,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.