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 Uganda and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Yaz to the grime 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Thompson Twins,
Marcia Griffiths,
Peter and Kerry,
The Slackers,
Section 25,
Tomorrow,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
La Düsseldorf,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mantronix,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
Dorothy Ashby,
Warren Ellis,
Deadbeat,
The Golliwogs,
One Last Wish,
The Knickerbockers,
Aural Exciters,
E-Dancer,
Newcleus,
New York Dolls,
The Moleskins,
Bronski Beat,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lungfish,
Jimmy McGriff,
Oneida,
The Five Americans,
Index,
The Mojo Men,
Smog,
Albert Ayler,
Tom Boy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Colin Newman,
the Normal,
Reuben Wilson,
Sonic Youth,
Banda Bassotti,
Supertramp,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
T.S.O.L.,
Magma,
X-101,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Wyatt,
a-ha,
David Axelrod,
Flash Fearless,
Rosa Yemen,
Dead Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
Infiniti,
Cybotron,
FM Einheit,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.