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 Korea North and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Michelle Simonal 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rakim,
Andrew Hill,
Y Pants,
Oblivians,
Icehouse,
Black Moon,
Skarface,
Harmonia,
Average White Band,
Monolake,
Byron Stingily,
the Bar-Kays,
kango's stein massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
DNA,
Simply Red,
The Monks,
Camberwell Now,
Minny Pops,
Kurtis Blow,
The Litter,
Visage,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skaos,
MDC,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Howard Jones,
Ten City,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aaron Thompson,
Amazonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brothers Johnson,
ABC,
Suicide,
D'Angelo,
Los Fastidios,
Adolescents,
Au Pairs,
Ronnie Foster,
Banda Bassotti,
Fugazi,
Freddie Wadling,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
LL Cool J,
The Evens,
Malaria!,
The Smoke,
Symarip,
These Immortal Souls,
Spoonie Gee,
Erykah Badu,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.