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 Comoros and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Martian to the dance 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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Finger,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
X-101,
Brothers Johnson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Country Teasers,
Excepter,
The Modern Lovers,
The Angels of Light,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Smooth,
Angry Samoans,
KRS-One,
Deepchord,
Dawn Penn,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Negative Approach,
Kaleidoscope,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Shuggie Otis,
Graham Central Station,
Fad Gadget,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Con Funk Shun,
The Beau Brummels,
Bill Near,
A Certain Ratio,
Niagra,
MDC,
Q65,
Tommy Roe,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jacob Miller,
Nils Olav,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New Order,
Blake Baxter,
Erykah Badu,
Chris Corsano,
Sister Nancy,
Crooked Eye,
Popol Vuh,
Schoolly D,
Motorama,
The Durutti Column,
Danielle Patucci,
Idris Muhammad,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ituana,
June Days,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brass Construction,
Slave,
Cymande,
The Neon Judgement,
Public Enemy,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.