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 Tanzania and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Robert Hood to the jazz 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb 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 harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Eric B and Rakim,
Accadde A,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crash Course in Science,
Essential Logic,
K-Klass,
Iggy Pop,
Japan,
U.S. Maple,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roxette,
Bill Near,
Soulsonic Force,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers,
Niagra,
the Soft Cell,
Isaac Hayes,
Electric Prunes,
the Normal,
Tubeway Army,
Ohio Players,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Tremeloes,
Nico,
Scion,
Babytalk,
James White and The Blacks,
World's Most,
Bush Tetras,
Barry Ungar,
Faraquet,
Black Sheep,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nas,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Newcleus,
The Smiths,
Colin Newman,
Con Funk Shun,
The Sonics,
The Fall,
The Grass Roots,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Moby Grape,
Monolake,
Jawbox,
Sight & Sound,
Ituana,
Country Teasers,
Franke,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wings,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Moleskins,
The Invisible,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kayak,
Ronnie Foster,
Gabor Szabo,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.