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 Suriname and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Porter Ricks to the electroclash 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Surgeon,
Tom Boy,
Harry Pussy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Index,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Harmonia,
Blossom Toes,
Rites of Spring,
The Evens,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stereo Dub,
Newcleus,
Janne Schatter,
Bill Near,
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crash Course in Science,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Groovy Waters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Danielle Patucci,
Brothers Johnson,
T. Rex,
Von Mondo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eddi Front,
Byron Stingily,
Hot Snakes,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
Matthew Bourne,
Al Stewart,
Pulsallama,
Theoretical Girls,
The Human League,
The Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
Heaven 17,
Robert Wyatt,
Maurizio,
Banda Bassotti,
Radio Birdman,
Public Enemy,
The Five Americans,
Steve Hackett,
Barbara Tucker,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Q and Not U,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
UT,
Quantec,
The Tremeloes,
The Saints,
John Foxx,
Radiohead,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.