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 Switzerland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gerry Rafferty to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Pretty Things,
Q65,
Interpol,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Flag,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cymande,
Chris & Cosey,
Public Image Ltd.,
Amazonics,
The Busters,
The Litter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
Mad Mike,
KRS-One,
Crime,
The Black Dice,
Sandy B,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roger Hodgson,
Blossom Toes,
Piero Umiliani,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Thompson Twins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mission of Burma,
Easy Going,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Jacob Miller,
The Smoke,
Oneida,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Womack,
Moebius,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nik Kershaw,
June of 44,
the Association,
Tears for Fears,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Crash Course in Science,
Severed Heads,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radio Birdman,
New Order,
Junior Murvin,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Martian,
The Electric Prunes,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.