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 Marshall Islands and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pharoah Sanders to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Invisible,
Crime,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Durutti Column,
Sixth Finger,
Harmonia,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
10cc,
Blossom Toes,
Sight & Sound,
The Litter,
David Bowie,
The Happenings,
Infiniti,
Chrome,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sister Nancy,
Q65,
Black Flag,
Procol Harum,
The Golliwogs,
Lower 48,
Alice Coltrane,
Yaz,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ronan,
Nik Kershaw,
Rites of Spring,
Theoretical Girls,
Prince Buster,
Slick Rick,
Young Marble Giants,
The Walker Brothers,
Depeche Mode,
Susan Cadogan,
Scan 7,
The Selecter,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bad Manners,
Symarip,
Von Mondo,
Funkadelic,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Don Cherry,
Michelle Simonal,
MC5,
Sugar Minott,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Heaven 17,
Charles Mingus,
Yazoo,
The Blackbyrds,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.