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 Syria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 808 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 The Gories to the jazz 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Rapeman,
Cybotron,
ABBA,
The Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Music Machine,
Marc Almond,
The Knickerbockers,
Cymande,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Second Layer,
The Grass Roots,
Swans,
Royal Trux,
Television,
Heaven 17,
Pussy Galore,
Barbara Tucker,
Lyres,
One Last Wish,
Anthony Braxton,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Victims,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Flesh Eaters,
Groovy Waters,
MDC,
Nick Fraelich,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drexciya,
Iggy Pop,
Pylon,
The Skatalites,
Tres Demented,
Black Pus,
Sarah Menescal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Connie Case,
Neil Young,
Scion,
Babytalk,
The Selecter,
Terry Callier,
Ice-T,
The Real Kids,
Kas Product,
Davy DMX,
Public Enemy,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Negative Approach,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.