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 Malawi and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brick to the crunk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Scientists,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lungfish,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wire,
Buzzcocks,
Prince Buster,
Banda Bassotti,
Minny Pops,
Absolute Body Control,
Monks,
Jacques Brel,
Agent Orange,
The Mummies,
Young Marble Giants,
Heaven 17,
Isaac Hayes,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun City Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Altered Images,
Gang Green,
The Gories,
R.M.O.,
The Golliwogs,
Tomorrow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Underground Resistance,
Yellowson,
The Black Dice,
Suburban Knight,
Godley & Creme,
The Moody Blues,
LL Cool J,
Avey Tare,
Whodini,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Stooges,
DJ Sneak,
Graham Central Station,
Supertramp,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Divine Comedy,
The Music Machine,
Sandy B,
The Zeros,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Michelle Simonal,
Television Personalities,
Animal Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Max Romeo,
The Monochrome Set,
Mark Hollis,
UT,
Piero Umiliani,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.