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 Mali and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Icehouse,
Grey Daturas,
Judy Mowatt,
A Certain Ratio,
Japan,
Black Pus,
June Days,
The Buckinghams,
Josef K,
The Last Poets,
Kerrie Biddell,
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Symarip,
Davy DMX,
Television Personalities,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Brass Construction,
Tres Demented,
Rakim,
The Motions,
Simply Red,
The Offenders,
Bronski Beat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magazine,
The Move,
Roxette,
LL Cool J,
Jandek,
This Heat,
Spandau Ballet,
Con Funk Shun,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fat Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Cramps,
Minutemen,
Bill Wells,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Maurizio,
Lucky Dragons,
Minor Threat,
Bang On A Can,
Severed Heads,
Inner City,
Robert Hood,
The Fortunes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dirtbombs,
Pagans,
The Music Machine,
Slave,
The Mojo Men,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.