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 United States and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Yellowson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Freddie Wadling,
Unrelated Segments,
Massinfluence,
Brick,
Spandau Ballet,
Anthony Braxton,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alison Limerick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Todd Rundgren,
Jeff Mills,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bauhaus,
Aural Exciters,
cv313,
Derrick Morgan,
Saccharine Trust,
Surgeon,
Severed Heads,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sound,
Nils Olav,
Sly & The Family Stone,
KRS-One,
Alton Ellis,
Suicide,
John Foxx,
Amon Düül,
Shoche,
The Monks,
The Fire Engines,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Make Up,
Archie Shepp,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rufus Thomas,
Black Sheep,
Bootsy Collins,
Kenny Larkin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Modern Lovers,
Nik Kershaw,
Index,
Groovy Waters,
Connie Case,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tommy Roe,
Malaria!,
Thompson Twins,
Desert Stars,
The Five Americans,
Tim Buckley,
Flash Fearless,
Qualms,
Howard Jones,
Neil Young,
Fatback Band,
Gichy Dan,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.