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 Oman and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Funkadelic to the rock 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Marmalade,
Severed Heads,
The Names,
Cheater Slicks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Audionom,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
Monks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Outsiders,
The Dead C,
Bobby Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Invisible,
Scan 7,
Rekid,
Tres Demented,
Kool Moe Dee,
Buzzcocks,
Joey Negro,
John Lydon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wasted Youth,
Gong,
Eve St. Jones,
Brass Construction,
the Bar-Kays,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Slick Rick,
Television,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Franke,
Q65,
Deadbeat,
These Immortal Souls,
D'Angelo,
The Black Dice,
Minor Threat,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vladislav Delay,
Junior Murvin,
Piero Umiliani,
Brothers Johnson,
cv313,
Lou Reed,
ABBA,
Barclay James Harvest,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fuzztones,
Roxy Music,
The Fall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nik Kershaw,
Erykah Badu,
Easy Going,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Radiohead,
Cal Tjader,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.