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 Lithuania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron 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 Arthur Verocai to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Durutti Column,
Section 25,
Infiniti,
Panda Bear,
Rufus Thomas,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
Ice-T,
Idris Muhammad,
Alice Coltrane,
the Normal,
Visage,
Khruangbin,
The Slackers,
Slave,
Fluxion,
Ossler,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Colin Newman,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joyce Sims,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Harry Pussy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arab on Radar,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pet Shop Boys,
Easy Going,
Duran Duran,
Mo-Dettes,
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
Dennis Brown,
Lungfish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Amazonics,
Model 500,
Pantaleimon,
Radio Birdman,
Mark Hollis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Gang Dance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
OOIOO,
Morten Harket,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Index,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Halsall,
The Selecter,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Walker Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
Magazine,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Smoke,
Wolf Eyes,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.