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 Colombia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Basic Channel to the rock 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Gang Green,
Adolescents,
Aural Exciters,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Swans,
Marc Almond,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Morten Harket,
Blossom Toes,
Mission of Burma,
Tears for Fears,
The Moody Blues,
David Bowie,
X-102,
Roger Hodgson,
Infiniti,
Loose Ends,
Black Flag,
Oblivians,
Barbara Tucker,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
The Angels of Light,
Eddi Front,
Suburban Knight,
Technova,
Quadrant,
Schoolly D,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
Newcleus,
Junior Murvin,
Prince Buster,
Hot Snakes,
The Flesh Eaters,
48th St. Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Lucky Dragons,
X-Ray Spex,
The Trojans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Masters at Work,
Guru Guru,
The Fire Engines,
Bush Tetras,
Josef K,
Qualms,
The Gladiators,
Pulsallama,
The Dirtbombs,
The Associates,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Von Mondo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mark Hollis,
Tim Buckley,
Althea and Donna,
Joey Negro,
Ken Boothe,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.