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 Somalia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mission of Burma to the rap 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Yellowson,
Saccharine Trust,
F. McDonald,
The Grass Roots,
a-ha,
the Slits,
The Slits,
Hoover,
Deadbeat,
KRS-One,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harry Pussy,
A Certain Ratio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
H. Thieme,
Jerry's Kids,
Eddi Front,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Underground Resistance,
Royal Trux,
Slave,
DNA,
Kool Moe Dee,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultravox,
Crooked Eye,
the Fania All-Stars,
X-102,
Main Source,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Victims,
Altered Images,
Stereo Dub,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric Dolphy,
Rites of Spring,
The Blackbyrds,
Andrew Hill,
The Associates,
Kaleidoscope,
Unwound,
Donny Hathaway,
The Busters,
Dual Sessions,
Absolute Body Control,
Eric Copeland,
The Five Americans,
Judy Mowatt,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Motions,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Remains,
Angry Samoans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scrapy,
Shoche,
FM Einheit,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gabor Szabo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liliput,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.