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 Bangladesh and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer 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 Make Up to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Bronski Beat,
Silicon Teens,
Cluster,
Eric Copeland,
John Coltrane,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Max Romeo,
The Music Machine,
Massinfluence,
The American Breed,
Mad Mike,
Liliput,
Echospace,
Stiv Bators,
Ice-T,
The Remains,
The Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smiths,
The Buckinghams,
Yusef Lateef,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crime,
John Holt,
Ludus,
The Neon Judgement,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rakim,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
Siglo XX,
These Immortal Souls,
Severed Heads,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Alphaville,
Simply Red,
Vainqueur,
Kerri Chandler,
Can,
Faraquet,
The Techniques,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deadbeat,
the Bar-Kays,
Eurythmics,
The Blues Magoos,
Duran Duran,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
E-Dancer,
Joy Division,
Desert Stars,
The Durutti Column,
Ituana,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers,
Rapeman,
Malaria!,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.