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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 The Grass Roots to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Bad Manners,
Crooked Eye,
Donald Byrd,
R.M.O.,
Faraquet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Smooth,
World's Most,
Nick Fraelich,
David Axelrod,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Names,
Rekid,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Toni Rubio,
Ossler,
Ten City,
The Cure,
The Litter,
Section 25,
Ultra Naté,
Cal Tjader,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Tim Buckley,
Sparks,
Procol Harum,
Neu!,
Sixth Finger,
Siglo XX,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sällskapet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
Stockholm Monsters,
The J.B.'s,
The Saints,
The Golliwogs,
The Fortunes,
H. Thieme,
Donny Hathaway,
New York Dolls,
Thompson Twins,
The Velvet Underground,
The Evens,
Brass Construction,
Country Teasers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Inner City,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Lydon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fela Kuti,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sound,
The Misunderstood,
Negative Approach,
The Pretty Things,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.