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 Montenegro and from Milan.
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 Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Bill Near,
Jandek,
Amon Düül II,
Ossler,
CMW,
Radio Birdman,
Rapeman,
Unrelated Segments,
Ice-T,
Marmalade,
The Golliwogs,
The Beau Brummels,
Rosa Yemen,
Yazoo,
Scientists,
Todd Rundgren,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nas,
Roy Ayers,
The Offenders,
Howard Jones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Outsiders,
The Remains,
Organ,
Nirvana,
Brick,
Tim Buckley,
Q65,
OOIOO,
Colin Newman,
Main Source,
Erasure,
Mo-Dettes,
Model 500,
Gong,
the Association,
Essential Logic,
Soul II Soul,
Ronan,
The Names,
Livin' Joy,
Scrapy,
Bob Dylan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tubeway Army,
Inner City,
Cameo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lucky Dragons,
The Star Department,
Ultra Naté,
Chris Corsano,
Joy Division,
A Certain Ratio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Camouflage,
D'Angelo,
Joe Finger,
the Human League,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.