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 China and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 electroclash 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Rakim,
Bobby Sherman,
Interpol,
Neil Young,
Rapeman,
The Martian,
This Heat,
Dennis Brown,
Sound Behaviour,
John Cale,
Motorama,
Donny Hathaway,
Negative Approach,
James White and The Blacks,
Y Pants,
The Gladiators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Quando Quango,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
kango's stein massive,
The Modern Lovers,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Soft Cell,
The Pop Group,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soft Machine,
Ludus,
Wings,
Fugazi,
Brick,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hashim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Swans,
Inner City,
The Golliwogs,
Faust,
The Birthday Party,
Silicon Teens,
Tears for Fears,
Thee Headcoats,
Joe Finger,
The Toasters,
The Litter,
The Moleskins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Todd Terry,
Susan Cadogan,
Scratch Acid,
Chrome,
Davy DMX,
The Smoke,
Rekid,
Minutemen,
Pierre Henry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.