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 Nigeria and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Pussy Galore to the disco 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
The Standells,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Bar-Kays,
La Düsseldorf,
Yusef Lateef,
Cybotron,
Television,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
World's Most,
The J.B.'s,
Rosa Yemen,
Slave,
The Angels of Light,
MC5,
Avey Tare,
Outsiders,
Amazonics,
Aaron Thompson,
CMW,
Scott Walker,
Urselle,
The Happenings,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sun Ra,
The Motions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tubeway Army,
Bauhaus,
Spandau Ballet,
Electric Prunes,
Chrome,
Jerry's Kids,
Maleditus Sound,
Roxy Music,
Robert Wyatt,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Grass Roots,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Style,
Simply Red,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultra Naté,
The Residents,
Ken Boothe,
Severed Heads,
The Sonics,
Derrick May,
Cecil Taylor,
Cal Tjader,
Bang On A Can,
Pulsallama,
Johnny Osbourne,
Qualms,
Lightning Bolt,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Sneak,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.