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 Korea North and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
The Misunderstood,
The Pop Group,
Kurtis Blow,
DNA,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Nils Olav,
Girls At Our Best!,
Stiv Bators,
The Martian,
Sex Pistols,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Pussy Galore,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
UT,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sam Rivers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Television Personalities,
The J.B.'s,
Johnny Osbourne,
Eric Copeland,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Moon,
48th St. Collective,
Archie Shepp,
Erasure,
Ten City,
8 Eyed Spy,
Absolute Body Control,
Judy Mowatt,
Darondo,
Magma,
Qualms,
Ice-T,
The Fortunes,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Gang Dance,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
Mars,
E-Dancer,
Outsiders,
Tom Boy,
Thompson Twins,
Alphaville,
Dennis Brown,
Lou Reed,
Ultra Naté,
The Searchers,
Scratch Acid,
Carl Craig,
The Litter,
Gang Starr,
FM Einheit,
Rufus Thomas,
Monolake,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.