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 East Timor and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tres Demented to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Walker Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Basic Channel,
Con Funk Shun,
Judy Mowatt,
Soft Machine,
Slave,
Suicide,
The Monks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Max Romeo,
Hot Snakes,
Yusef Lateef,
The Selecter,
The Grass Roots,
Q65,
Amazonics,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harry Pussy,
Pagans,
Black Pus,
Alice Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Porter Ricks,
Flash Fearless,
FM Einheit,
Gichy Dan,
Althea and Donna,
Y Pants,
The Names,
Sister Nancy,
Rites of Spring,
The Blackbyrds,
John Holt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Make Up,
Second Layer,
Minnie Riperton,
Godley & Creme,
Joe Smooth,
Minny Pops,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brand Nubian,
Yellowson,
The Fortunes,
The Cowsills,
Juan Atkins,
John Cale,
The Dirtbombs,
Soulsonic Force,
Drexciya,
the Human League,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lindisfarne,
Lyres,
Soft Cell,
Funkadelic,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.