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 Qatar and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 OOIOO to the grunge 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fatback Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Parry Music,
Suicide,
Khruangbin,
The Walker Brothers,
Ten City,
Silicon Teens,
The Pretty Things,
Boz Scaggs,
This Heat,
The Fire Engines,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Dolphy,
Fluxion,
Motorama,
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Qualms,
The Evens,
Archie Shepp,
Aural Exciters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maleditus Sound,
Lower 48,
JFA,
Wings,
Bobby Sherman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
ABC,
Slave,
Jesper Dahlback,
Funky Four + One,
Yazoo,
Blake Baxter,
Ponytail,
Black Bananas,
X-Ray Spex,
Y Pants,
E-Dancer,
Bill Near,
Bang On A Can,
Desert Stars,
Janne Schatter,
Lindisfarne,
kango's stein massive,
One Last Wish,
Subhumans,
B.T. Express,
Andrew Hill,
Yellowson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Make Up,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Babytalk,
Theoretical Girls,
Yusef Lateef,
The Kinks,
Lalann,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.