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 Burkina and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Cowsills,
Tim Buckley,
The Selecter,
The Fortunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Raincoats,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joey Negro,
Danielle Patucci,
Minutemen,
the Normal,
Public Enemy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eve St. Jones,
Negative Approach,
Darondo,
Charles Mingus,
The Music Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bronski Beat,
Little Man,
Piero Umiliani,
Soulsonic Force,
Sixth Finger,
Cecil Taylor,
Dennis Brown,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Martian,
The Blackbyrds,
EPMD,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eli Mardock,
La Düsseldorf,
The Saints,
Hasil Adkins,
Yaz,
Amazonics,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lungfish,
Procol Harum,
Tears for Fears,
Ronnie Foster,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Human League,
Suicide,
Funky Four + One,
Siglo XX,
Sex Pistols,
Circle Jerks,
Chris & Cosey,
Black Sheep,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
Amon Düül,
Excepter,
Donny Hathaway,
Tom Boy,
Intrusion,
Robert Wyatt,
These Immortal Souls,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.