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 Botswana and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter & Gordon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
T.S.O.L.,
ABBA,
John Cale,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Shadows of Knight,
Outsiders,
Soft Machine,
Babytalk,
Eden Ahbez,
Newcleus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
U.S. Maple,
Erykah Badu,
China Crisis,
The United States of America,
The Star Department,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Man Parrish,
Moebius,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Stockholm Monsters,
These Immortal Souls,
The Barracudas,
Ituana,
Barbara Tucker,
Absolute Body Control,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mojo Men,
Q and Not U,
Depeche Mode,
Tom Boy,
Jandek,
Johnny Osbourne,
Surgeon,
The Dead C,
The Victims,
Mark Hollis,
Franke,
Byron Stingily,
the Association,
Sight & Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mission of Burma,
Pharoah Sanders,
Young Marble Giants,
Spandau Ballet,
FM Einheit,
The Walker Brothers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Juan Atkins,
Blake Baxter,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rites of Spring,
Siglo XX,
Darondo,
World's Most,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nick Fraelich,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Little Man,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.