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 Tonga and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Liaisons Dangereuses 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Technova,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
OOIOO,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Idris Muhammad,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lightning Bolt,
Eddi Front,
The Techniques,
Mandrill,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crash Course in Science,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Urselle,
Sun City Girls,
The Knickerbockers,
Ponytail,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crooked Eye,
The Mummies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minutemen,
R.M.O.,
The Slits,
Y Pants,
the Slits,
The Dirtbombs,
Scan 7,
Sex Pistols,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wally Richardson,
Lucky Dragons,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Marine Girls,
Malaria!,
Darondo,
Ultravox,
Country Teasers,
Robert Hood,
The Cowsills,
Liliput,
Juan Atkins,
B.T. Express,
Ten City,
Scrapy,
Porter Ricks,
Basic Channel,
Alice Coltrane,
Hashim,
Kurtis Blow,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Brand Nubian,
Gang of Four,
Pierre Henry,
Moby Grape,
Eli Mardock,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.