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 Sri Lanka and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet 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 The Motions 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Arthur Verocai,
Metal Thangz,
Blake Baxter,
Shoche,
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scion,
Nirvana,
The Toasters,
Lightning Bolt,
The Wake,
Peter and Kerry,
Angry Samoans,
Soft Cell,
Peter & Gordon,
Bob Dylan,
Brass Construction,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Duran Duran,
The Mummies,
Harpers Bizarre,
Donald Byrd,
The Buckinghams,
Swell Maps,
Accadde A,
Eric Dolphy,
Dawn Penn,
The Beau Brummels,
The Five Americans,
Maleditus Sound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Tremeloes,
Oblivians,
Gang Green,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Smog,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cramps,
Darondo,
Grauzone,
Harry Pussy,
Dennis Brown,
Cymande,
Toni Rubio,
Mars,
Parry Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Country Teasers,
Talk Talk,
Pantaleimon,
The Moody Blues,
Flamin' Groovies,
Camberwell Now,
Intrusion,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Janne Schatter,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.