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 New Zealand and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Spoonie Gee to the rap 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Faust,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dirtbombs,
Stetsasonic,
Dawn Penn,
Hardrive,
The Music Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
Lower 48,
Easy Going,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ten City,
Kenny Larkin,
The Index,
Animal Collective,
Soft Cell,
The Searchers,
Harry Pussy,
The Sonics,
Derrick Morgan,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Near,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Blues Magoos,
Subhumans,
Lou Reed,
Cabaret Voltaire,
This Heat,
Roxette,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Massinfluence,
The American Breed,
Amazonics,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Max Romeo,
OOIOO,
Visage,
Ludus,
Tim Buckley,
Laurel Aitken,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Association,
X-102,
Fifty Foot Hose,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Cowsills,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Groovy Waters,
Tears for Fears,
The Moleskins,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sandy B,
Terry Callier,
Barry Ungar,
Amon Düül,
The Gun Club,
Minny Pops,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.