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 Kiribati and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Curtis Mayfield to the funk 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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Anakelly,
Slave,
The Raincoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
The Leaves,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Johnny Clarke,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Charles Mingus,
The Gap Band,
Technova,
The Black Dice,
The New Christs,
Pussy Galore,
The Slits,
Throbbing Gristle,
MC5,
Kool Moe Dee,
Inner City,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hot Snakes,
Public Enemy,
EPMD,
Zero Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
Popol Vuh,
Agent Orange,
Alison Limerick,
The Fortunes,
Qualms,
Essential Logic,
The Evens,
Crispian St. Peters,
Judy Mowatt,
Sister Nancy,
The Moleskins,
Interpol,
Scion,
Peter and Kerry,
Sound Behaviour,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lungfish,
Black Moon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Harry Pussy,
Newcleus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Teasers,
The Sonics,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gun Club,
The Motions,
Smog,
Roxette,
The Star Department,
Q and Not U,
Laurel Aitken,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.