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 Mozambique and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brass Construction to the grime 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Metal Thangz,
The Leaves,
Agitation Free,
The Fugs,
The Tremeloes,
The Saints,
Adolescents,
Piero Umiliani,
Jeff Mills,
Wings,
The Dead C,
Basic Channel,
Mark Hollis,
PIL,
AZ,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Golliwogs,
Scrapy,
KRS-One,
Crispian St. Peters,
Todd Terry,
Robert Görl,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fear,
Lalo Schifrin,
Michelle Simonal,
Black Sheep,
Arcadia,
Steve Hackett,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sarah Menescal,
The Raincoats,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Mojo Men,
Maurizio,
Absolute Body Control,
Connie Case,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Minutemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eden Ahbez,
Camouflage,
Parry Music,
The Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
Outsiders,
Lower 48,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Residents,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Roxette,
Gang Starr,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.