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 Brazil and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Carl Craig to the jazz 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Neil Young,
Cymande,
Intrusion,
PIL,
Trumans Water,
The Young Rascals,
Swell Maps,
Crash Course in Science,
Andrew Hill,
The Mojo Men,
Maurizio,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Alarm Clocks,
Slave,
Traffic Nightmare,
Supertramp,
Talk Talk,
One Last Wish,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yusef Lateef,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Moon,
Eden Ahbez,
Sandy B,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Tremeloes,
Kurtis Blow,
Magazine,
Tom Boy,
Dead Boys,
Jawbox,
T. Rex,
Black Pus,
Soulsonic Force,
Rakim,
Sällskapet,
Nation of Ulysses,
Whodini,
Nico,
Scrapy,
Jacques Brel,
Eve St. Jones,
Bob Dylan,
Ronan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gang Starr,
Popol Vuh,
The Electric Prunes,
Joe Finger,
E-Dancer,
Barbara Tucker,
Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Laurel Aitken,
Deepchord,
The Sound,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.