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 Mongolia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marshall Jefferson to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
the Human League,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Howard Jones,
The Searchers,
Patti Smith,
Con Funk Shun,
X-101,
the Bar-Kays,
X-102,
Brick,
Todd Rundgren,
Bang On A Can,
Subhumans,
The Buckinghams,
Crispian St. Peters,
Aural Exciters,
The Vogues,
Oneida,
Yellowson,
Sandy B,
Black Moon,
Amazonics,
The Raincoats,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Associates,
Roger Hodgson,
K-Klass,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terry Callier,
Man Parrish,
The Smiths,
Half Japanese,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Byrd,
Alison Limerick,
Lakeside,
the Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stereo Dub,
The Monks,
Barry Ungar,
Radio Birdman,
John Holt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
Yazoo,
Harmonia,
Blossom Toes,
Boredoms,
Tim Buckley,
Henry Cow,
Fad Gadget,
Fear,
Slick Rick,
Josef K,
Toni Rubio,
Frankie Knuckles,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.