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 Serbia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lindisfarne,
Alison Limerick,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ice-T,
Fat Boys,
Amon Düül,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
James White and The Blacks,
This Heat,
Fad Gadget,
The Raincoats,
Interpol,
Soul II Soul,
Nico,
Shoche,
Cameo,
Tommy Roe,
Marine Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brass Construction,
Gabor Szabo,
Prince Buster,
Gong,
Kayak,
Jacques Brel,
Metal Thangz,
Eden Ahbez,
PIL,
Hashim,
Toni Rubio,
Dark Day,
Gang Green,
Hoover,
Stereo Dub,
Harmonia,
The Gladiators,
Scan 7,
Deakin,
New Age Steppers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stetsasonic,
Tomorrow,
Masters at Work,
Sällskapet,
In Retrospect,
Subhumans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Busters,
Yusef Lateef,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Angels of Light,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dead Boys,
Gang of Four,
The Barracudas,
Juan Atkins,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.