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 Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Mark Hollis,
Electric Prunes,
Buzzcocks,
Iggy Pop,
Fat Boys,
cv313,
DNA,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlback,
Average White Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Junior Murvin,
The Mummies,
Bad Manners,
Eric B and Rakim,
Outsiders,
Depeche Mode,
Ludus,
Mr. Review,
Brothers Johnson,
The Slits,
The Grass Roots,
ABBA,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moby Grape,
F. McDonald,
Lebanon Hanover,
Oblivians,
the Sonics,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Lakeside,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roy Ayers,
The Birthday Party,
Minnie Riperton,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Harry Pussy,
New Order,
Mars,
Neil Young,
The Happenings,
Bob Dylan,
Joey Negro,
Banda Bassotti,
Newcleus,
Derrick May,
Colin Newman,
Heaven 17,
Los Fastidios,
Black Sheep,
The Index,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Stooges,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Invisible,
Silicon Teens,
Blossom Toes,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.