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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bremen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Symarip to the electroclash 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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eli Mardock,
Little Man,
Ronnie Foster,
New Order,
Scrapy,
Carl Craig,
Isaac Hayes,
Chris Corsano,
The Wake,
The Cure,
X-102,
Ultra Naté,
Josef K,
a-ha,
Ituana,
CMW,
Saccharine Trust,
The Modern Lovers,
Robert Wyatt,
Delta 5,
The Moleskins,
The Names,
Neil Young,
Sun City Girls,
Deepchord,
Fad Gadget,
Alphaville,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dirtbombs,
The Seeds,
The Trojans,
June of 44,
Mars,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Severed Heads,
Boredoms,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scion,
Black Pus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Skaos,
Marine Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Lindisfarne,
Al Stewart,
Harry Pussy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cameo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Alison Limerick,
Audionom,
Camouflage,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
The Golliwogs,
Michelle Simonal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Johnny Osbourne,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.