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 Tajikistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Das Ding 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Jimmy McGriff,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
The Count Five,
Ultravox,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Dead C,
Von Mondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Laurel Aitken,
Pantaleimon,
Joyce Sims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Scion,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lindisfarne,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Second Layer,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mad Mike,
Mandrill,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scan 7,
Charles Mingus,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gregory Isaacs,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Durutti Column,
Drexciya,
Tears for Fears,
Sällskapet,
Juan Atkins,
The J.B.'s,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
ABC,
Janne Schatter,
Hasil Adkins,
X-101,
Gichy Dan,
Morten Harket,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fad Gadget,
Dark Day,
New York Dolls,
Cal Tjader,
Index,
One Last Wish,
Loose Ends,
Accadde A,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.