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 Vanuatu 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Rakim to the punk 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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
Drexciya,
Interpol,
L. Decosne,
Man Parrish,
The Human League,
Royal Trux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Average White Band,
Roxy Music,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric Copeland,
Aural Exciters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spoonie Gee,
Groovy Waters,
Au Pairs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Moby Grape,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Unrelated Segments,
Crash Course in Science,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Beau Brummels,
New Order,
Ronan,
A Certain Ratio,
Gabor Szabo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nik Kershaw,
Lucky Dragons,
Gong,
The Happenings,
Dead Boys,
Mr. Review,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Darondo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Axelrod,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-102,
The Fortunes,
The Smiths,
The Kinks,
Laurel Aitken,
Moss Icon,
The Martian,
The Slackers,
Wings,
the Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
John Foxx,
Smog,
Robert Wyatt,
Dave Gahan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dave Clark Five,
OOIOO,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.