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 Qatar and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Walker Brothers to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Babytalk,
Lalann,
The Blues Magoos,
World's Most,
Suburban Knight,
Animal Collective,
June Days,
Barry Ungar,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hot Snakes,
The Divine Comedy,
Groovy Waters,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Raincoats,
The Red Krayola,
Bad Manners,
Slick Rick,
Icehouse,
Joyce Sims,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ossler,
Sex Pistols,
Stereo Dub,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Angels of Light,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Roy Ayers,
The Stooges,
Alice Coltrane,
Make Up,
Hasil Adkins,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Index,
The Offenders,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fat Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Music Machine,
Ultravox,
Grey Daturas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deakin,
Maurizio,
Deepchord,
Television Personalities,
Dorothy Ashby,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Magazine,
Negative Approach,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Evens,
Pantaleimon,
Eve St. Jones,
Connie Case,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
These Immortal Souls,
Faust,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.