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 Kenya and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Youth Brigade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Q65 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Infiniti,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor,
Kaleidoscope,
The Red Krayola,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Clear Light,
The Dirtbombs,
Kas Product,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cymande,
Make Up,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Malaria!,
DNA,
E-Dancer,
Rod Modell,
Piero Umiliani,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang of Four,
Brand Nubian,
Bauhaus,
Ultra Naté,
The Motions,
The Techniques,
Lower 48,
The Residents,
Royal Trux,
The Real Kids,
Depeche Mode,
The Mummies,
Robert Hood,
Yazoo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Accadde A,
Juan Atkins,
Fad Gadget,
Pantytec,
Blancmange,
Maurizio,
K-Klass,
Yaz,
Kayak,
Lakeside,
The Beau Brummels,
Severed Heads,
10cc,
Tim Buckley,
Matthew Bourne,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
X-101,
Model 500,
Sun City Girls,
Al Stewart,
The Electric Prunes,
Skaos,
Arab on Radar,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sex Pistols,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.