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 the UAE and from Lagos.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the rap 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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
John Cale,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
Shoche,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
Nils Olav,
Magma,
Ohio Players,
Josef K,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Panda Bear,
Soft Machine,
Eric Dolphy,
Mr. Review,
The Invisible,
David Axelrod,
Harry Pussy,
The Sound,
Radio Birdman,
The Cramps,
Ice-T,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Can,
Gang Starr,
Underground Resistance,
Desert Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
the Association,
Popol Vuh,
Drexciya,
Black Flag,
The Doors,
Pere Ubu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Victims,
The Vogues,
Robert Hood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Magazine,
Youth Brigade,
Minnie Riperton,
Little Man,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Oneida,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kayak,
Parry Music,
Deepchord,
La Düsseldorf,
Al Stewart,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David McCallum,
Nas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bill Near,
Second Layer,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.