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 Brunei and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jimmy McGriff to the punk 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Sparks,
Hashim,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter and Kerry,
Ronnie Foster,
Morten Harket,
Suicide,
Adolescents,
Eddi Front,
Half Japanese,
Can,
Mo-Dettes,
JFA,
The Gap Band,
Fat Boys,
Make Up,
Cheater Slicks,
T. Rex,
Piero Umiliani,
The Buckinghams,
The Busters,
Livin' Joy,
Donald Byrd,
Arcadia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Throbbing Gristle,
This Heat,
Funky Four + One,
The Remains,
Pere Ubu,
Arab on Radar,
Mr. Review,
Amon Düül,
Sight & Sound,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
The Fortunes,
Agitation Free,
Tim Buckley,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scan 7,
The Sound,
Circle Jerks,
Icehouse,
Buzzcocks,
Quando Quango,
Junior Murvin,
MDC,
Black Bananas,
Accadde A,
Sex Pistols,
the Bar-Kays,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Basic Channel,
Jerry's Kids,
Intrusion,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.