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 Malawi and from Halifax.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
The Offenders,
John Cale,
Brothers Johnson,
Roy Ayers,
Black Pus,
Pantytec,
The Last Poets,
Los Fastidios,
Marine Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ponytail,
Bobby Hutcherson,
ABC,
Erykah Badu,
Metal Thangz,
Delon & Dalcan,
Henry Cow,
Ultimate Spinach,
F. McDonald,
Man Parrish,
Yazoo,
The Slits,
Thompson Twins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
This Heat,
Johnny Osbourne,
Section 25,
Connie Case,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
The Birthday Party,
Japan,
Ultravox,
Charles Mingus,
Franke,
Loose Ends,
a-ha,
Neil Young,
Leonard Cohen,
Livin' Joy,
The Standells,
Mantronix,
Dual Sessions,
Gang Green,
Ronan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Excepter,
Nils Olav,
Carl Craig,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lou Reed,
the Bar-Kays,
The Zeros,
The Doobie Brothers,
Procol Harum,
the Association,
48th St. Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.