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 Nauru and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 United States of America to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Severed Heads,
Derrick Morgan,
The Mummies,
Gong,
Fluxion,
Moebius,
The Offenders,
Groovy Waters,
Reagan Youth,
Suicide,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Das Ding,
Agent Orange,
Nico,
Grauzone,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sarah Menescal,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Moody Blues,
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lucky Dragons,
Bronski Beat,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pretty Things,
New Age Steppers,
the Swans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pussy Galore,
The Remains,
The Stooges,
June of 44,
Y Pants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kayak,
Theoretical Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Liliput,
Brass Construction,
Lyres,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pantaleimon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Outsiders,
Schoolly D,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Trojans,
Minutemen,
Camberwell Now,
Scientists,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxy Music,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kaleidoscope,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare,
Marmalade,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.