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 Tunisia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore 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?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rekid,
D'Angelo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Echospace,
Mo-Dettes,
Crash Course in Science,
Yazoo,
Judy Mowatt,
X-102,
The Alarm Clocks,
Schoolly D,
Neil Young,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cecil Taylor,
kango's stein massive,
Liliput,
Colin Newman,
Wasted Youth,
The Zeros,
Todd Rundgren,
Rufus Thomas,
David Bowie,
Camberwell Now,
The Fortunes,
Pere Ubu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pussy Galore,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
Technova,
Severed Heads,
James White and The Blacks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Dead C,
Spandau Ballet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Symarip,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
K-Klass,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Zero Boys,
Anakelly,
Monolake,
Oblivians,
Joe Finger,
Q and Not U,
Fear,
Nik Kershaw,
Moby Grape,
Funky Four + One,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.