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 Argentina and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Cluster,
Public Enemy,
Popol Vuh,
David McCallum,
Idris Muhammad,
CMW,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Subhumans,
Clear Light,
F. McDonald,
Dark Day,
The Litter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Massinfluence,
Siglo XX,
New Order,
Man Parrish,
Ludus,
Eric Dolphy,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Slits,
ABBA,
Alton Ellis,
Dave Gahan,
Pussy Galore,
Shoche,
New Age Steppers,
Mars,
Peter and Kerry,
DJ Sneak,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Echospace,
The Shadows of Knight,
Livin' Joy,
Max Romeo,
Goldenarms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roy Ayers,
Moebius,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Doors,
Pantytec,
The Leaves,
Moby Grape,
Bronski Beat,
Toni Rubio,
Anakelly,
Underground Resistance,
Hardrive,
Average White Band,
Malaria!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Starr,
Aswad,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.