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 Tajikistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Warsaw,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Searchers,
Cheater Slicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Pulsallama,
Black Bananas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Accadde A,
Groovy Waters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Von Mondo,
Lyres,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Darondo,
David Bowie,
Terry Callier,
Aloha Tigers,
Eden Ahbez,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
The Leaves,
Bill Wells,
The Monks,
Minutemen,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Main Source,
Anakelly,
Mad Mike,
Circle Jerks,
Ossler,
Mission of Burma,
Camouflage,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jawbox,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joey Negro,
Lalann,
Echospace,
X-102,
The Sound,
Roy Ayers,
Kool Moe Dee,
World's Most,
This Heat,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Massinfluence,
New Order,
Ten City,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anthony Braxton,
Josef K,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family.
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.