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 Albania and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Brass Construction to the electroclash 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 The Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
The Dirtbombs,
Aaron Thompson,
Public Image Ltd.,
Boz Scaggs,
New York Dolls,
John Holt,
Altered Images,
the Fania All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mojo Men,
Bad Manners,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marvin Gaye,
Depeche Mode,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Supertramp,
Banda Bassotti,
Nik Kershaw,
Main Source,
Brothers Johnson,
DJ Sneak,
The Litter,
Popol Vuh,
Warsaw,
Lower 48,
The Cowsills,
Scott Walker,
Little Man,
The Evens,
Harry Pussy,
Josef K,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Organ,
Joe Finger,
Sight & Sound,
Whodini,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bill Wells,
Q65,
Erasure,
The Grass Roots,
Lou Christie,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Byrd,
Eli Mardock,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deepchord,
Mad Mike,
Yazoo,
Avey Tare,
Deadbeat,
Spandau Ballet,
Max Romeo,
Desert Stars,
Suicide,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.