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 Madagascar and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Stetsasonic,
Amazonics,
Main Source,
Pantaleimon,
The Skatalites,
David Bowie,
Alphaville,
Matthew Bourne,
Bang On A Can,
Pussy Galore,
Juan Atkins,
Ponytail,
The Cowsills,
Desert Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Don Cherry,
Ludus,
Aural Exciters,
Anthony Braxton,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultravox,
Rhythm & Sound,
Public Enemy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Saints,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Section 25,
Duran Duran,
D'Angelo,
The Neon Judgement,
Ralphi Rosario,
China Crisis,
Ultra Naté,
Yusef Lateef,
Symarip,
Terry Callier,
Soft Cell,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Letta Mbulu,
Michelle Simonal,
Soulsonic Force,
The Electric Prunes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Raincoats,
Talk Talk,
Tubeway Army,
CMW,
Cameo,
Subhumans,
Icehouse,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Underground Resistance,
Howard Jones,
Marc Almond,
Intrusion,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.