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 Seychelles and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 U.S. Maple to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Patti Smith,
Roxette,
Boz Scaggs,
Quantec,
the Soft Cell,
Kurtis Blow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sugar Minott,
Tom Boy,
Shuggie Otis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Association,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sound Behaviour,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ludus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nico,
DJ Style,
Unwound,
Steve Hackett,
Prince Buster,
Pulsallama,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fluxion,
Dead Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
H. Thieme,
Sister Nancy,
Sarah Menescal,
a-ha,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Sherman,
Angry Samoans,
Ronnie Foster,
The Moody Blues,
The Golliwogs,
Livin' Joy,
Jacob Miller,
Mars,
The Blackbyrds,
Fad Gadget,
The Wake,
Con Funk Shun,
New Age Steppers,
Q65,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Maurizio,
Soul II Soul,
Kerri Chandler,
Scratch Acid,
The Moleskins,
The Toasters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marc Almond,
Scan 7,
Andrew Hill,
Visage,
La Düsseldorf,
Rosa Yemen,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.