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 Chile and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Skatalites to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Joy Division,
Howard Jones,
H. Thieme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Suburban Knight,
The Doobie Brothers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Khruangbin,
Joey Negro,
Eli Mardock,
Kurtis Blow,
Bluetip,
Donald Byrd,
Quantec,
The Wake,
Malaria!,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers,
B.T. Express,
Funky Four + One,
Bill Near,
Sugar Minott,
Michelle Simonal,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Slackers,
Junior Murvin,
Television Personalities,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
The Cowsills,
The New Christs,
The Sonics,
Echospace,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobby Womack,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Qualms,
Patti Smith,
World's Most,
Hardrive,
DNA,
The Fuzztones,
Erasure,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sound,
Masters at Work,
Lou Christie,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lower 48,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Aaron Thompson,
David McCallum,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantaleimon,
The Barracudas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Sherman,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.