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 Cyprus and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 The Names to the dance 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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?
Ituana,
The Modern Lovers,
Suburban Knight,
Liliput,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Harry Pussy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Blake Baxter,
Gastr Del Sol,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Severed Heads,
Hashim,
Eli Mardock,
This Heat,
Fela Kuti,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fuzztones,
Absolute Body Control,
The Searchers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacques Brel,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dark Day,
Fugazi,
the Swans,
Man Parrish,
Agitation Free,
The Move,
Matthew Bourne,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
June of 44,
Pere Ubu,
Gabor Szabo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eden Ahbez,
ABC,
Marine Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Rakim,
In Retrospect,
John Coltrane,
John Holt,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sight & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Mark Hollis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Lynne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Martian,
Rufus Thomas,
John Lydon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Colin Newman,
The Cramps,
The Gap Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Grauzone,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.