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 Uganda and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare to the disco 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Ohio Players,
Slave,
Interpol,
Von Mondo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Todd Terry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mad Mike,
H. Thieme,
Sound Behaviour,
Arthur Verocai,
Porter Ricks,
Eric Copeland,
The Black Dice,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Angry Samoans,
Boz Scaggs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Vogues,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Little Man,
Scratch Acid,
Heaven 17,
Michelle Simonal,
Wally Richardson,
Fugazi,
Kerri Chandler,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Neon Judgement,
Reagan Youth,
Peter & Gordon,
Minutemen,
Arcadia,
Alton Ellis,
Judy Mowatt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Index,
Neil Young,
China Crisis,
Desert Stars,
The Residents,
Rod Modell,
Blossom Toes,
Motorama,
Gichy Dan,
The Move,
Dual Sessions,
Kerrie Biddell,
Talk Talk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Association,
Tom Boy,
The Litter,
Newcleus,
Black Pus,
Sandy B,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.