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 Taiwan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Trumans Water to the crunk 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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Kas Product,
One Last Wish,
Ossler,
Todd Rundgren,
Interpol,
Faraquet,
Zero Boys,
Franke,
The Moleskins,
The Dead C,
Joensuu 1685,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lower 48,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Spandau Ballet,
X-102,
The Names,
The Litter,
Severed Heads,
Brand Nubian,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grauzone,
In Retrospect,
The Pretty Things,
Stereo Dub,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lungfish,
June of 44,
Bang On A Can,
Junior Murvin,
Arthur Verocai,
Erasure,
Circle Jerks,
Sister Nancy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dirtbombs,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Raincoats,
Rotary Connection,
Fat Boys,
Flipper,
Gabor Szabo,
The Black Dice,
Babytalk,
Marc Almond,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Durutti Column,
Derrick Morgan,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Starr,
Quando Quango,
Sun City Girls,
Soft Machine,
Schoolly D,
Sonny Sharrock,
Country Teasers,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.