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 Suriname and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Los Fastidios to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Aswad,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rekid,
The Pop Group,
Nirvana,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sam Rivers,
Cymande,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ken Boothe,
Lalann,
John Lydon,
Matthew Bourne,
Can,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Tremeloes,
Minor Threat,
The Stooges,
Young Marble Giants,
Grauzone,
Pagans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marmalade,
U.S. Maple,
Moebius,
The Blackbyrds,
Sex Pistols,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
This Heat,
Tim Buckley,
B.T. Express,
Angry Samoans,
Ronnie Foster,
Joyce Sims,
The Smoke,
Popol Vuh,
Eli Mardock,
Kerri Chandler,
Niagra,
Dawn Penn,
June Days,
Cal Tjader,
Eric B and Rakim,
ABBA,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Human League,
Adolescents,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Starr,
The Leaves,
Fluxion,
Gong,
Pharoah Sanders,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Flag,
Jandek,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.