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 Nigeria and from Mexico City.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Sugar Minott to the punk 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lindisfarne,
Popol Vuh,
Bobby Sherman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultra Naté,
Don Cherry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gichy Dan,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Gories,
Ken Boothe,
DJ Sneak,
Dead Boys,
Ronnie Foster,
Severed Heads,
Yellowson,
Deepchord,
Procol Harum,
Make Up,
Ultravox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lower 48,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Q and Not U,
Bill Near,
Roxette,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Television Personalities,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Moon,
Funkadelic,
The Black Dice,
X-102,
Theoretical Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
Slick Rick,
Guru Guru,
The Fortunes,
Black Flag,
Ice-T,
Groovy Waters,
Fad Gadget,
cv313,
X-Ray Spex,
Mo-Dettes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Residents,
The Last Poets,
Unwound,
R.M.O.,
Derrick May,
Tommy Roe,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.