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 Nepal and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ 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 Roxy Music to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Public Enemy,
Michelle Simonal,
Rod Modell,
Alice Coltrane,
Moby Grape,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cameo,
The Standells,
Simply Red,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lucky Dragons,
Junior Murvin,
Banda Bassotti,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Joensuu 1685,
Masters at Work,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Raincoats,
Swans,
David McCallum,
The Saints,
Byron Stingily,
Marvin Gaye,
Glenn Branca,
Agitation Free,
Outsiders,
Joy Division,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Kinks,
A Certain Ratio,
T. Rex,
Minor Threat,
Saccharine Trust,
The Black Dice,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Moleskins,
Morten Harket,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Procol Harum,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Carl Craig,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
The Monks,
a-ha,
Lightning Bolt,
Rufus Thomas,
The Skatalites,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sällskapet,
Tim Buckley,
MC5,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rekid,
Supertramp,
Cecil Taylor,
Ronan,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.