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 Grenada and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 F. McDonald to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Niagra,
Peter and Kerry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Little Man,
Fifty Foot Hose,
CMW,
Babytalk,
Young Marble Giants,
OOIOO,
Au Pairs,
The American Breed,
Vainqueur,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cowsills,
Nils Olav,
L. Decosne,
Slick Rick,
Make Up,
The Evens,
Clear Light,
World's Most,
Maleditus Sound,
Mad Mike,
Bad Manners,
Das Ding,
Simply Red,
Pylon,
The Fortunes,
The Beau Brummels,
China Crisis,
Bob Dylan,
Public Enemy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Basic Channel,
Funkadelic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Smiths,
The Dirtbombs,
Cal Tjader,
Man Parrish,
Kenny Larkin,
The Human League,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Copeland,
Moebius,
Saccharine Trust,
Pussy Galore,
Outsiders,
Sight & Sound,
The Misunderstood,
Moss Icon,
Yazoo,
Susan Cadogan,
Bobby Byrd,
June of 44,
The Sonics,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.