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 Tunisia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric B and Rakim,
Symarip,
Zero Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arthur Verocai,
Slave,
Byron Stingily,
R.M.O.,
Robert Görl,
CMW,
The Sonics,
Oblivians,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pulsallama,
Kerri Chandler,
Mars,
La Düsseldorf,
Masters at Work,
Camberwell Now,
Skriet,
Livin' Joy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soft Cell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Popol Vuh,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Music Machine,
The Smoke,
Alice Coltrane,
Grauzone,
Underground Resistance,
The Index,
Maleditus Sound,
Wings,
Sugar Minott,
Danielle Patucci,
Accadde A,
Talk Talk,
Circle Jerks,
T. Rex,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Morten Harket,
Section 25,
Animal Collective,
Sparks,
The Electric Prunes,
the Slits,
The Skatalites,
Chris Corsano,
A Certain Ratio,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Flipper,
Agent Orange,
Bill Near,
Oneida,
H. Thieme,
The Offenders,
Bobby Byrd,
Barclay James Harvest,
Stetsasonic,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.