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 Namibia and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Peter & Gordon to the punk 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Banda Bassotti,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mandrill,
Quando Quango,
Nick Fraelich,
Brass Construction,
The Kinks,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
The Buckinghams,
Grey Daturas,
Traffic Nightmare,
One Last Wish,
Colin Newman,
Robert Görl,
Marvin Gaye,
Minnie Riperton,
Arcadia,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Josef K,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Howard Jones,
Man Parrish,
Quantec,
Mars,
Warren Ellis,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Unrelated Segments,
Parry Music,
Chrome,
Quadrant,
The Happenings,
Freddie Wadling,
The Dirtbombs,
Malaria!,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
Masters at Work,
Intrusion,
Porter Ricks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lucky Dragons,
Pylon,
ABC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soft Machine,
Monks,
The Busters,
Echospace,
Newcleus,
Fear,
Kurtis Blow,
Slick Rick,
The Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Don Cherry,
The Blackbyrds,
The Cowsills,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.