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 Mauritius and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cymande to the electroclash 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Barclay James Harvest,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grey Daturas,
Mandrill,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Second Layer,
The Names,
Cecil Taylor,
Mark Hollis,
Hot Snakes,
Loose Ends,
Niagra,
Michelle Simonal,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Sheep,
Pole,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
Moby Grape,
Man Eating Sloth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Inner City,
Jacques Brel,
Funky Four + One,
Groovy Waters,
The Golliwogs,
Brand Nubian,
Marine Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Organ,
The Gun Club,
Dawn Penn,
Los Fastidios,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fortunes,
Make Up,
Boredoms,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Flag,
Dark Day,
Unwound,
Index,
a-ha,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skriet,
Bootsy Collins,
Janne Schatter,
The Durutti Column,
The Smoke,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Cowsills,
The Litter,
Kaleidoscope,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.