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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Letta Mbulu to the grunge 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians 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 oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Maleditus Sound,
Television,
The Electric Prunes,
Cymande,
The Move,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Pus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bootsy Collins,
Theoretical Girls,
The Associates,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter and Kerry,
Quantec,
Suicide,
Adolescents,
Index,
the Germs,
Thee Headcoats,
Agent Orange,
R.M.O.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Yazoo,
Minnie Riperton,
The Knickerbockers,
Inner City,
Byron Stingily,
Bauhaus,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Henry Cow,
John Holt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Magma,
Simply Red,
Bluetip,
Oblivians,
Gong,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tubeway Army,
Anthony Braxton,
Pantytec,
Nas,
The Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bobbi Humphrey,
Procol Harum,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Brass Construction,
MC5,
The Offenders,
New Order,
Motorama,
The Cowsills,
Godley & Creme,
Neil Young,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.