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 Andorra and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd 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?
Silicon Teens,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Bananas,
The Kinks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nirvana,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
Faust,
The Modern Lovers,
The Doors,
The Detroit Cobras,
Morten Harket,
FM Einheit,
Make Up,
The Count Five,
Darondo,
The Selecter,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
Echospace,
Nik Kershaw,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Wells,
Angry Samoans,
Television,
World's Most,
The Techniques,
The Tremeloes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Vainqueur,
The Invisible,
The Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
Susan Cadogan,
The Knickerbockers,
Patti Smith,
Mary Jane Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
KRS-One,
Slave,
Max Romeo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Carl Craig,
Hashim,
Blancmange,
Rosa Yemen,
Lyres,
The Smoke,
Scion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marmalade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Magazine,
Eddi Front,
Erasure,
Mandrill,
Desert Stars,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.