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 Bhutan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 marimba 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 Essential Logic to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Radio Birdman,
The United States of America,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Nas,
Slick Rick,
The Human League,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Essential Logic,
Derrick May,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yellowson,
Symarip,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Gladiators,
Whodini,
T. Rex,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gap Band,
Infiniti,
Second Layer,
John Cale,
Camouflage,
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Magma,
Fat Boys,
Skaos,
Minny Pops,
Negative Approach,
Heaven 17,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scan 7,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Electric Prunes,
Von Mondo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
Bauhaus,
Chrome,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Roger Hodgson,
FM Einheit,
Pere Ubu,
Skriet,
Young Marble Giants,
D'Angelo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Brass Construction,
Bronski Beat,
The Dirtbombs,
Sex Pistols,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.