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 Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Selecter to the grunge 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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
U.S. Maple,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Laurel Aitken,
June Days,
Porter Ricks,
Procol Harum,
Fatback Band,
DJ Style,
Bill Wells,
The Five Americans,
Easy Going,
Leonard Cohen,
John Holt,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eli Mardock,
Pylon,
The Golliwogs,
Vladislav Delay,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Moss Icon,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
The Divine Comedy,
The Barracudas,
Nas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Peter and Kerry,
China Crisis,
John Lydon,
Rod Modell,
Black Pus,
Kool Moe Dee,
Yaz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
FM Einheit,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
E-Dancer,
The Monochrome Set,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Crime,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Con Funk Shun,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Starr,
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
EPMD,
Dennis Brown,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.