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 Nicaragua and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes 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 Shuggie Otis 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Bluetip,
The Sonics,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Slackers,
The Techniques,
Lalann,
Gang Starr,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moss Icon,
The Smiths,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sight & Sound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Misunderstood,
Jacob Miller,
The Smoke,
Section 25,
Lee Hazlewood,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mars,
Black Moon,
Black Bananas,
Marine Girls,
New Order,
Gastr Del Sol,
Donald Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Nas,
Thompson Twins,
The Raincoats,
Black Pus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Amon Düül,
Sixth Finger,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
Banda Bassotti,
Swell Maps,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Blancmange,
Rites of Spring,
Boogie Down Productions,
Main Source,
One Last Wish,
Interpol,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cluster,
Roxy Music,
Severed Heads,
Essential Logic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scientists,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bad Manners,
48th St. Collective,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.