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 Venezuela and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mumbai.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grime 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
The Cowsills,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marshall Jefferson,
DJ Sneak,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Robert Hood,
Franke,
Niagra,
Alice Coltrane,
Flipper,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ohio Players,
Al Stewart,
The Cure,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Mantronix,
Henry Cow,
Rekid,
Camberwell Now,
The Birthday Party,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Depeche Mode,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Shuggie Otis,
John Foxx,
Goldenarms,
The Gun Club,
Patti Smith,
Ituana,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bush Tetras,
Byron Stingily,
a-ha,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fatback Band,
Parry Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Bar-Kays,
Motorama,
Neu!,
the Sonics,
Easy Going,
John Cale,
Organ,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.