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 Afghanistan and from Manchester.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the rock 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blossom Toes,
Mission of Burma,
Desert Stars,
Roxette,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rapeman,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skriet,
Marvin Gaye,
Moebius,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deepchord,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Divine Comedy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Bananas,
The Techniques,
Bush Tetras,
Urselle,
Audionom,
Eve St. Jones,
The Human League,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Icehouse,
The Gap Band,
Arcadia,
Matthew Halsall,
Cluster,
La Düsseldorf,
New Age Steppers,
Clear Light,
Lalo Schifrin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soft Cell,
Public Enemy,
AZ,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ultra Naté,
The Index,
Lower 48,
Kayak,
Swell Maps,
Unwound,
Soft Machine,
cv313,
Iggy Pop,
Erykah Badu,
Television,
Sonny Sharrock,
China Crisis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eurythmics,
The Cramps,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Absolute Body Control,
Agent Orange,
The Move,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.