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 Mauritius and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Roy Ayers to the rock 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
One Last Wish,
The Techniques,
Kurtis Blow,
Theoretical Girls,
June of 44,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crooked Eye,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-Ray Spex,
MC5,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nik Kershaw,
Tim Buckley,
Parry Music,
Main Source,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun City Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
Blake Baxter,
Eli Mardock,
Faust,
Pussy Galore,
Silicon Teens,
Rites of Spring,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grey Daturas,
Tubeway Army,
Jeru the Damaja,
Spandau Ballet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Steve Hackett,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Thompson Twins,
Index,
The New Christs,
Byron Stingily,
Brothers Johnson,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fortunes,
David McCallum,
Deepchord,
Fat Boys,
Hoover,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
The Motions,
Fatback Band,
Nirvana,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Barracudas,
Negative Approach,
The Velvet Underground,
The Names,
Young Marble Giants,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.