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 London.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 Black Pus to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Soulsonic Force,
Archie Shepp,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Public Enemy,
ABBA,
Magazine,
Sandy B,
Scion,
June Days,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Freddie Wadling,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Subhumans,
Magma,
Das Ding,
James White and The Blacks,
Carl Craig,
Laurel Aitken,
DNA,
Marc Almond,
Arab on Radar,
Hashim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gang Gang Dance,
Howard Jones,
Grey Daturas,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aswad,
Theoretical Girls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roxette,
The Electric Prunes,
Sun Ra,
a-ha,
Marmalade,
The Durutti Column,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ohio Players,
Dawn Penn,
Fela Kuti,
Bad Manners,
Interpol,
Marcia Griffiths,
Janne Schatter,
Eric Copeland,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Count Five,
Eli Mardock,
Symarip,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Q and Not U,
Urselle,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Youth Brigade,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.