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 Philippines and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Matthew Bourne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deakin,
Fugazi,
Avey Tare,
Soft Cell,
Grey Daturas,
The Tremeloes,
Heaven 17,
Smog,
Kayak,
cv313,
Mission of Burma,
Prince Buster,
a-ha,
Gerry Rafferty,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Kerri Chandler,
The Grass Roots,
Aaron Thompson,
Radio Birdman,
Guru Guru,
Niagra,
Scratch Acid,
Bad Manners,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Starr,
Ornette Coleman,
Deadbeat,
Crooked Eye,
Peter and Kerry,
Hoover,
The Durutti Column,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Hill,
Babytalk,
Parry Music,
Bootsy Collins,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
Mr. Review,
Amon Düül,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dennis Brown,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Whodini,
Jeff Mills,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pole,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jerry's Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Albert Ayler,
Mad Mike,
ABC,
Gang Green,
Todd Terry,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.