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 Malaysia and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Neu! to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Pussy Galore,
Gang Starr,
The Raincoats,
Carl Craig,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Barrington Levy,
Bluetip,
Bobby Sherman,
Terry Callier,
Stockholm Monsters,
Arab on Radar,
Faraquet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Saccharine Trust,
The Trojans,
Michelle Simonal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Junior Murvin,
Marvin Gaye,
Sexual Harrassment,
Spandau Ballet,
The Moleskins,
Scrapy,
Stetsasonic,
Marc Almond,
John Holt,
Vladislav Delay,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
Quando Quango,
Bad Manners,
Talk Talk,
Stiv Bators,
The Blues Magoos,
Rotary Connection,
Howard Jones,
Mantronix,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Copeland,
Scratch Acid,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rod Modell,
Mr. Review,
Japan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cheater Slicks,
The Grass Roots,
The Neon Judgement,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Echospace,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kevin Saunderson,
Liliput,
Joe Smooth,
Shuggie Otis,
Sun City Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Standells,
Yazoo,
Tears for Fears,
Rufus Thomas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.