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 Antigua and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Johnny Clarke to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Roy Ayers,
Youth Brigade,
Hasil Adkins,
Cal Tjader,
David McCallum,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Buzzcocks,
Leonard Cohen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Basic Channel,
Negative Approach,
The Names,
Spoonie Gee,
DJ Style,
Duran Duran,
Audionom,
Moebius,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rufus Thomas,
The New Christs,
The Fugs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cure,
Anthony Braxton,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Half Japanese,
Thompson Twins,
The Skatalites,
Sparks,
Neu!,
Jesper Dahlback,
Arthur Verocai,
Moby Grape,
OOIOO,
Lyres,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultravox,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sällskapet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Susan Cadogan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Radio Birdman,
H. Thieme,
David Axelrod,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fela Kuti,
Jeff Mills,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeff Lynne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fall,
Steve Hackett,
The Slackers,
Cameo,
Los Fastidios,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.