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 Ecuador and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Harry Pussy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cymande,
Yellowson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blake Baxter,
The Gories,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mandrill,
Chris Corsano,
Procol Harum,
David Bowie,
The Busters,
Slave,
Crispy Ambulance,
Duran Duran,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crooked Eye,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dark Day,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Zeros,
Ultra Naté,
Agent Orange,
Swell Maps,
Ten City,
Jawbox,
Jeff Lynne,
CMW,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Marshall Jefferson,
Freddie Wadling,
Gabor Szabo,
Bang On A Can,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Connie Case,
Intrusion,
The Associates,
Neu!,
The Names,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wolf Eyes,
Piero Umiliani,
Derrick May,
Black Pus,
Bauhaus,
The Knickerbockers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Severed Heads,
The Litter,
Main Source,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Visage,
Gerry Rafferty,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.