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 Burkina and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 the Fania All-Stars to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bang On A Can,
Motorama,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sight & Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Modern Lovers,
Kenny Larkin,
Dark Day,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Holt,
Fatback Band,
B.T. Express,
Dennis Brown,
Hoover,
Grey Daturas,
U.S. Maple,
DJ Sneak,
Subhumans,
Zero Boys,
Infiniti,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Starr,
Reuben Wilson,
Wasted Youth,
EPMD,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pantytec,
Aaron Thompson,
ABC,
Clear Light,
Public Enemy,
Arcadia,
Adolescents,
Yaz,
New Order,
Morten Harket,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Patti Smith,
Ornette Coleman,
Erasure,
The Fortunes,
Connie Case,
Jeff Mills,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
The Grass Roots,
Oneida,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bauhaus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
Eric Copeland,
10cc,
Faust,
Yazoo,
Japan,
Nico,
Tim Buckley,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.