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 Australia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the funk 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
John Holt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
The Fuzztones,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minutemen,
The Pop Group,
In Retrospect,
John Foxx,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dead Boys,
Bill Wells,
Gil Scott Heron,
Niagra,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Swans,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Skaos,
David Axelrod,
The Blues Magoos,
The Tremeloes,
Excepter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Silicon Teens,
Animal Collective,
Kurtis Blow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mantronix,
John Coltrane,
The Remains,
Procol Harum,
Alton Ellis,
Alphaville,
Con Funk Shun,
Whodini,
Kenny Larkin,
Letta Mbulu,
Ponytail,
Sandy B,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angry Samoans,
Alison Limerick,
Aswad,
The Cramps,
Bootsy Collins,
D'Angelo,
Minor Threat,
Japan,
Ultravox,
Index,
The Martian,
The Star Department,
10cc,
Sixth Finger,
Organ,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.