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 Bahamas and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba 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 Boogie Down Productions to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Yusef Lateef,
Stereo Dub,
Jawbox,
The Fortunes,
Sixth Finger,
Procol Harum,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Motions,
Aural Exciters,
Janne Schatter,
Maurizio,
The Raincoats,
Stiv Bators,
Nirvana,
Television Personalities,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terry Callier,
Khruangbin,
Crime,
Heaven 17,
Nils Olav,
The Divine Comedy,
Silicon Teens,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric B and Rakim,
Minny Pops,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Byrd,
Barry Ungar,
Crash Course in Science,
Prince Buster,
Simply Red,
Alton Ellis,
Jacques Brel,
Sound Behaviour,
X-101,
Dawn Penn,
DNA,
Yellowson,
Monolake,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Happenings,
Dead Boys,
the Normal,
Traffic Nightmare,
Monks,
The Angels of Light,
Public Enemy,
Circle Jerks,
June of 44,
Josef K,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.