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 Mongolia and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 Smoke to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Moebius,
The Gun Club,
Bronski Beat,
Rhythm & Sound,
Guru Guru,
Curtis Mayfield,
June Days,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angry Samoans,
Agitation Free,
8 Eyed Spy,
Schoolly D,
Arthur Verocai,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Bananas,
ABBA,
Panda Bear,
Black Sheep,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
The Moleskins,
The Gap Band,
The Knickerbockers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiohead,
The Beau Brummels,
Oneida,
Simply Red,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ornette Coleman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Amon Düül,
Toni Rubio,
Donny Hathaway,
Index,
Stereo Dub,
Banda Bassotti,
David McCallum,
Boz Scaggs,
Wings,
Don Cherry,
Bootsy Collins,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Names,
Radiopuhelimet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Franke,
Rakim,
Von Mondo,
The Dirtbombs,
UT,
Pussy Galore,
Gabor Szabo,
Goldenarms,
the Sonics,
R.M.O.,
Agent Orange,
Nirvana,
Bush Tetras,
Nico,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.