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 Sudan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Monks to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Excepter,
Black Sheep,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Erasure,
Michelle Simonal,
Bad Manners,
Eric B and Rakim,
Desert Stars,
Warsaw,
Brand Nubian,
Al Stewart,
Television Personalities,
Aloha Tigers,
Man Parrish,
Funky Four + One,
H. Thieme,
Suburban Knight,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Blake Baxter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swell Maps,
Saccharine Trust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kas Product,
The Dave Clark Five,
Rites of Spring,
Intrusion,
Khruangbin,
Gang Starr,
John Lydon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Swans,
Todd Terry,
The Standells,
Lightning Bolt,
Urselle,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Pus,
Japan,
Amon Düül II,
Letta Mbulu,
Ten City,
Ultra Naté,
John Cale,
Technova,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Saints,
Cheater Slicks,
Oneida,
Aswad,
Marine Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Slackers,
Brothers Johnson,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.