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 Slovakia and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Underground Resistance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Mojo Men,
Subhumans,
kango's stein massive,
Mr. Review,
Oneida,
Ralphi Rosario,
Clear Light,
D'Angelo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joyce Sims,
Liliput,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mantronix,
Todd Rundgren,
Circle Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantaleimon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Womack,
Steve Hackett,
Tom Boy,
Rotary Connection,
Tropical Tobacco,
Zapp,
The Tremeloes,
Moss Icon,
The Moody Blues,
Bronski Beat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jacques Brel,
Funkadelic,
The United States of America,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
Wally Richardson,
Darondo,
Jeff Lynne,
Wasted Youth,
Erasure,
The Divine Comedy,
Ituana,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ronnie Foster,
Agent Orange,
Adolescents,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
Sam Rivers,
Au Pairs,
Camouflage,
Bobby Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
the Human League,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David Bowie,
The Saints,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.