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 Eritrea and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Nile Rodgers 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 The Selecter to the grunge 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
kango's stein massive,
Fluxion,
The Flesh Eaters,
cv313,
Jawbox,
Rod Modell,
Sarah Menescal,
Joey Negro,
Bill Near,
Andrew Hill,
Pole,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Divine Comedy,
The Raincoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Smoke,
Iggy Pop,
Quando Quango,
The Gap Band,
The Angels of Light,
The Moody Blues,
Alphaville,
Main Source,
Arcadia,
The Music Machine,
The Leaves,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Flag,
Rosa Yemen,
Bill Wells,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cheater Slicks,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
Gastr Del Sol,
Junior Murvin,
Model 500,
Kaleidoscope,
The Offenders,
Parry Music,
Absolute Body Control,
Unwound,
Scientists,
The Red Krayola,
Ronnie Foster,
Jerry's Kids,
John Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Niagra,
Symarip,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Flipper,
Spandau Ballet,
Youth Brigade,
Guru Guru,
Au Pairs,
Anthony Braxton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.