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 Mexico and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bob Dylan to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Morten Harket,
The Names,
Dual Sessions,
The Martian,
Sixth Finger,
Siglo XX,
Popol Vuh,
Sun City Girls,
kango's stein massive,
Duran Duran,
Organ,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Archie Shepp,
Ultra Naté,
Neu!,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Kayak,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masters at Work,
Lungfish,
The Toasters,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Blues Magoos,
The New Christs,
Talk Talk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joyce Sims,
Lou Reed,
Bizarre Inc.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
James White and The Blacks,
Wally Richardson,
The Star Department,
Letta Mbulu,
Quadrant,
Sugar Minott,
Eli Mardock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Swell Maps,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Joe Finger,
Alphaville,
Lightning Bolt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Motorama,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Real Kids,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
U.S. Maple,
Shoche,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.