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 San Marino and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Connie Case to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
ABBA,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eurythmics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Shoche,
Funky Four + One,
The Vogues,
Marc Almond,
Al Stewart,
Dennis Brown,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Can,
One Last Wish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gong,
Suicide,
Eli Mardock,
The Litter,
The Smoke,
Sexual Harrassment,
Unrelated Segments,
The Mighty Diamonds,
kango's stein massive,
the Slits,
Technova,
Los Fastidios,
Junior Murvin,
Quantec,
Quando Quango,
The Wake,
Young Marble Giants,
Gichy Dan,
Donny Hathaway,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dark Day,
Rakim,
Panda Bear,
Lucky Dragons,
Mo-Dettes,
UT,
Todd Terry,
Scratch Acid,
Motorama,
the Association,
A Certain Ratio,
The Remains,
Gregory Isaacs,
Camberwell Now,
The Toasters,
Oneida,
The Victims,
Bob Dylan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stiv Bators,
Nirvana,
Niagra,
X-102,
Flash Fearless,
EPMD,
Ronnie Foster,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.