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 San Marino and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alison Limerick to the grunge 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
The Real Kids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grauzone,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mary Jane Girls,
Trumans Water,
Erasure,
Morten Harket,
The Music Machine,
Agitation Free,
The Martian,
The Fuzztones,
Tom Boy,
Sparks,
Kurtis Blow,
the Bar-Kays,
Dual Sessions,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Second Layer,
Stetsasonic,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
Vainqueur,
The Moleskins,
Heaven 17,
Banda Bassotti,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
John Coltrane,
The Monks,
Jawbox,
Eli Mardock,
Essential Logic,
These Immortal Souls,
Sixth Finger,
Eric B and Rakim,
Judy Mowatt,
Model 500,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Anthony Braxton,
Warsaw,
Bob Dylan,
The Names,
Blake Baxter,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pierre Henry,
Mantronix,
Fluxion,
New Age Steppers,
Accadde A,
Graham Central Station,
Sonny Sharrock,
X-Ray Spex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cheater Slicks,
Yusef Lateef,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.