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 Swaziland and from Tokyo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Talk Talk to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nico,
Suburban Knight,
Interpol,
Bobby Byrd,
Gong,
Joey Negro,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moody Blues,
Heaven 17,
Yazoo,
In Retrospect,
Marshall Jefferson,
Letta Mbulu,
The Durutti Column,
Ludus,
The American Breed,
Alphaville,
Panda Bear,
Franke,
Susan Cadogan,
The Evens,
Audionom,
A Certain Ratio,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Seeds,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy Collins,
The Mummies,
Alton Ellis,
Half Japanese,
Popol Vuh,
Avey Tare,
Jesper Dahlback,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pole,
Supertramp,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Moleskins,
Sarah Menescal,
Amon Düül II,
Terry Callier,
Gang Green,
Outsiders,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Livin' Joy,
Joy Division,
Slick Rick,
Robert Görl,
Neu!,
Nick Fraelich,
EPMD,
Cal Tjader,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Buzzcocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fortunes,
David Bowie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kenny Larkin,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.