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 Togo and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Star Department to the grime 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Scrapy,
New York Dolls,
Scott Walker,
The Pop Group,
Dennis Brown,
MDC,
Lightning Bolt,
Urselle,
The Black Dice,
Mad Mike,
Frankie Knuckles,
Warren Ellis,
The Moody Blues,
The Moleskins,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Saccharine Trust,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fela Kuti,
Main Source,
Jacob Miller,
The Fortunes,
Sandy B,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Offenders,
The Pretty Things,
Zero Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Hoover,
Arcadia,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Starr,
The Associates,
Technova,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Malaria!,
Los Fastidios,
Dark Day,
Marine Girls,
Infiniti,
Sonic Youth,
Joey Negro,
Blossom Toes,
The Red Krayola,
Scratch Acid,
Bronski Beat,
Roxette,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Liliput,
Wire,
Cymande,
Parry Music,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pere Ubu,
Hashim,
Japan,
The Skatalites,
Freddie Wadling,
Lyres,
Magazine,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.