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 Zimbabwe and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
The Motions,
Arcadia,
Surgeon,
Shuggie Otis,
Smog,
Davy DMX,
Joe Smooth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brass Construction,
X-101,
Roy Ayers,
The Divine Comedy,
The Happenings,
Bobby Hutcherson,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare,
The Searchers,
Sun City Girls,
Gang of Four,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aural Exciters,
Faraquet,
the Bar-Kays,
Bluetip,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jandek,
Inner City,
Graham Central Station,
These Immortal Souls,
Kaleidoscope,
The Invisible,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
The Vogues,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
Roger Hodgson,
Alice Coltrane,
Kayak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Spoonie Gee,
Main Source,
Excepter,
Derrick Morgan,
Scratch Acid,
the Normal,
Talk Talk,
Lindisfarne,
Donny Hathaway,
Dennis Brown,
Young Marble Giants,
Swans,
Cymande,
Pagans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dead C,
Robert Wyatt,
Nik Kershaw,
Eric Dolphy,
U.S. Maple,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.