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 Mauritius and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Yusef Lateef to the disco 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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Banda Bassotti,
Archie Shepp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Evens,
AZ,
Susan Cadogan,
Pagans,
Cecil Taylor,
LL Cool J,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Al Stewart,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monks,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alphaville,
Goldenarms,
Vladislav Delay,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marcia Griffiths,
10cc,
Black Pus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gap Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scan 7,
The Dead C,
The Pretty Things,
Das Ding,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
Organ,
Jawbox,
Popol Vuh,
David McCallum,
Don Cherry,
Cal Tjader,
Wally Richardson,
Y Pants,
Accadde A,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Osbourne,
Los Fastidios,
Scion,
Cluster,
Brothers Johnson,
Ten City,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kerri Chandler,
One Last Wish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Quando Quango,
Lyres,
Dave Gahan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rotary Connection,
Magma,
Electric Prunes,
Andrew Hill,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.