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 Tanzania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron 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 L. Decosne to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Underground Resistance,
The American Breed,
The Tremeloes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Chris Corsano,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doors,
Pere Ubu,
The Sonics,
The Index,
Maurizio,
The Mummies,
Hoover,
Nas,
Boredoms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Happenings,
Wally Richardson,
Grey Daturas,
Minnie Riperton,
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
Gang Gang Dance,
OOIOO,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ituana,
Scratch Acid,
K-Klass,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronan,
Laurel Aitken,
Quando Quango,
The Fortunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Make Up,
Black Sheep,
Con Funk Shun,
Mission of Burma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Al Stewart,
Soulsonic Force,
Man Parrish,
The Trojans,
The Blackbyrds,
Janne Schatter,
Unrelated Segments,
Curtis Mayfield,
Heaven 17,
Roy Ayers,
Infiniti,
Thompson Twins,
Rapeman,
the Slits,
Aswad,
ABC,
Hasil Adkins,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.