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 Russia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Schoolly D to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
The Misunderstood,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Glenn Branca,
Radiohead,
Magma,
Black Pus,
Jeff Lynne,
The Pretty Things,
Nico,
The Names,
Dorothy Ashby,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Whodini,
The Durutti Column,
Alison Limerick,
Wolf Eyes,
Masters at Work,
Darondo,
Al Stewart,
Radio Birdman,
Absolute Body Control,
Babytalk,
Black Bananas,
Scratch Acid,
Minor Threat,
Mo-Dettes,
Crime,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Camberwell Now,
The Victims,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lyres,
The Angels of Light,
The Zeros,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Warsaw,
FM Einheit,
The Techniques,
Quadrant,
Skarface,
AZ,
Sällskapet,
Susan Cadogan,
Brick,
Funky Four + One,
Roy Ayers,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
Quando Quango,
Agent Orange,
Todd Rundgren,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fugazi,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.