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 Beijing.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Aswad to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Excepter,
Ornette Coleman,
Intrusion,
Eric Dolphy,
Soul II Soul,
Man Eating Sloth,
Circle Jerks,
The Beau Brummels,
Second Layer,
Ten City,
48th St. Collective,
MC5,
Visage,
Reagan Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Ice-T,
Skaos,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Wyatt,
Wally Richardson,
Desert Stars,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mission of Burma,
Silicon Teens,
The Barracudas,
EPMD,
Wolf Eyes,
Nirvana,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Al Stewart,
The Human League,
The Misunderstood,
Wire,
Patti Smith,
Arthur Verocai,
the Association,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arcadia,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Section 25,
Big Daddy Kane,
Scratch Acid,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scion,
Make Up,
The Leaves,
Alison Limerick,
Aaron Thompson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Motorama,
Radiohead,
Minnie Riperton,
Harpers Bizarre,
Inner City,
The Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.