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 Serbia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Swell Maps to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Goldenarms,
Echospace,
Throbbing Gristle,
Thee Headcoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pantaleimon,
Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Matthew Bourne,
Mr. Review,
Barrington Levy,
Don Cherry,
The Seeds,
Ronnie Foster,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Underground Resistance,
Steve Hackett,
Mark Hollis,
Basic Channel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
X-Ray Spex,
Babytalk,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Heaven 17,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minnie Riperton,
Quadrant,
Radio Birdman,
the Slits,
Sällskapet,
Byron Stingily,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scott Walker,
Tom Boy,
Junior Murvin,
Vladislav Delay,
Roy Ayers,
The Fortunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Terry Callier,
The Searchers,
Los Fastidios,
kango's stein massive,
Fugazi,
Cymande,
Yaz,
Cluster,
June of 44,
Sister Nancy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Swans,
Marcia Griffiths,
Masters at Work,
Gang Green,
Eden Ahbez,
Al Stewart,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.