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 Marshall Islands and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The American Breed to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Country Teasers,
The Moleskins,
Tim Buckley,
Magma,
Hardrive,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Black Moon,
The Count Five,
Joy Division,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Seeds,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rhythm & Sound,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lee Hazlewood,
Echospace,
Adolescents,
Wire,
Scott Walker,
Moebius,
Talk Talk,
Lou Christie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Make Up,
Frankie Knuckles,
Donny Hathaway,
Interpol,
Absolute Body Control,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sound,
the Normal,
Pagans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Underground Resistance,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Neon Judgement,
The Grass Roots,
Eddi Front,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Idris Muhammad,
48th St. Collective,
The Music Machine,
The Offenders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
F. McDonald,
Robert Görl,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Divine Comedy,
The Birthday Party,
The Black Dice,
Minnie Riperton,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Starr,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.