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 Saudi Arabia and from Spokane.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Cecil Taylor to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Todd Terry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nick Fraelich,
Grandmaster Flash,
48th St. Collective,
Colin Newman,
the Sonics,
Laurel Aitken,
Japan,
Neu!,
Scan 7,
Negative Approach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Angels of Light,
John Holt,
E-Dancer,
Skaos,
Aswad,
Dawn Penn,
T. Rex,
John Coltrane,
Piero Umiliani,
PIL,
China Crisis,
The Misunderstood,
Little Man,
Talk Talk,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Funkadelic,
The Names,
Freddie Wadling,
John Lydon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Machine,
Cybotron,
Popol Vuh,
The Velvet Underground,
Nik Kershaw,
Monolake,
A Certain Ratio,
Massinfluence,
DJ Sneak,
Spoonie Gee,
Jesper Dahlback,
Godley & Creme,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Raincoats,
Blossom Toes,
UT,
Swell Maps,
Harpers Bizarre,
Magazine,
Kayak,
Crime,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yellowson,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.