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 Equatorial Guinea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Junior Murvin to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
The Music Machine,
Barrington Levy,
Sun Ra,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mission of Burma,
Pulsallama,
Television,
Pussy Galore,
CMW,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smoke,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fugs,
Khruangbin,
Sonic Youth,
The Count Five,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oneida,
The Gladiators,
Groovy Waters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Livin' Joy,
Barry Ungar,
Pole,
Kayak,
Matthew Bourne,
Sarah Menescal,
Dark Day,
Mark Hollis,
The Zeros,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tom Boy,
Terrestrial Tones,
10cc,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wings,
Masters at Work,
Q and Not U,
Johnny Clarke,
U.S. Maple,
the Human League,
The Pop Group,
Q65,
Swell Maps,
Aural Exciters,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ornette Coleman,
Gerry Rafferty,
Theoretical Girls,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.