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 Montenegro and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Monks to the jazz 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Lakeside,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
June of 44,
Pole,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Shuggie Otis,
Soul II Soul,
Reuben Wilson,
Clear Light,
Gong,
The Gap Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wasted Youth,
Iggy Pop,
Rakim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Freddie Wadling,
Ice-T,
The Monks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultravox,
Camberwell Now,
T.S.O.L.,
Pussy Galore,
Laurel Aitken,
Sound Behaviour,
Gil Scott Heron,
Altered Images,
Piero Umiliani,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jeru the Damaja,
B.T. Express,
Terry Callier,
Man Parrish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Vogues,
Funkadelic,
X-Ray Spex,
Alison Limerick,
The Wake,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Icehouse,
Dorothy Ashby,
R.M.O.,
Drexciya,
F. McDonald,
Barry Ungar,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Durutti Column,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nico,
Television,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.