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 Somalia and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Trojans to the grunge 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Cymande,
Marcia Griffiths,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Juan Atkins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Lydon,
Kenny Larkin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hashim,
Jeff Lynne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Schoolly D,
Gabor Szabo,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
June Days,
Sight & Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Fat Boys,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Sound Behaviour,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Young Marble Giants,
Deadbeat,
Josef K,
X-101,
Sex Pistols,
Ronnie Foster,
Carl Craig,
Moss Icon,
Brick,
Trumans Water,
The American Breed,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bad Manners,
Scratch Acid,
X-102,
Moby Grape,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
The Misunderstood,
Kayak,
Royal Trux,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marc Almond,
Curtis Mayfield,
Minny Pops,
Eric Copeland,
Animal Collective,
Mad Mike,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scion,
Spoonie Gee,
The Velvet Underground,
Vladislav Delay,
Blake Baxter,
Todd Rundgren,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.