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 Mongolia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a linndrum 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 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?
Howard Jones,
The Electric Prunes,
Eden Ahbez,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tom Boy,
Skaos,
T. Rex,
Shuggie Otis,
Avey Tare,
the Human League,
Roxette,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fatback Band,
David Bowie,
Essential Logic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Infiniti,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sight & Sound,
Godley & Creme,
Donald Byrd,
Scratch Acid,
Minnie Riperton,
Saccharine Trust,
Dawn Penn,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Panda Bear,
John Foxx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chris Corsano,
Excepter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Schoolly D,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ornette Coleman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mark Hollis,
Tears for Fears,
The Cowsills,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brothers Johnson,
Faust,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soft Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
Deadbeat,
Goldenarms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fat Boys,
The Stooges,
Los Fastidios,
Mantronix,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.