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 Guinea and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Groovy Waters to the grime 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Masters at Work,
The J.B.'s,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Red Krayola,
World's Most,
Fat Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Gerry Rafferty,
Section 25,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Parry Music,
Gang Gang Dance,
Easy Going,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warsaw,
John Lydon,
Hardrive,
Fela Kuti,
Brothers Johnson,
The Toasters,
The Slits,
Make Up,
Sarah Menescal,
James White and The Blacks,
Iggy Pop,
Jacob Miller,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
Ultra Naté,
Shoche,
The Gap Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Judy Mowatt,
Desert Stars,
The Motions,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Trojans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fugs,
Leonard Cohen,
The Standells,
The Fuzztones,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lightning Bolt,
Gichy Dan,
Pet Shop Boys,
FM Einheit,
Faust,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sugar Minott,
The Move,
Isaac Hayes,
MC5,
Blossom Toes,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Buzzcocks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Cell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.