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 Cambodia and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
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 mellotron 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
John Lydon,
R.M.O.,
It's A Beautiful Day,
U.S. Maple,
Gang Starr,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jawbox,
The Fortunes,
The Last Poets,
John Holt,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Youth Brigade,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ohio Players,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Terry,
The Gladiators,
The Alarm Clocks,
Suicide,
Bobby Sherman,
Make Up,
Shoche,
Pantaleimon,
Jeff Lynne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Soulsonic Force,
The Saints,
Minutemen,
The Red Krayola,
The Fuzztones,
Quando Quango,
Von Mondo,
Essential Logic,
The Moody Blues,
Section 25,
Bobby Byrd,
Janne Schatter,
Dave Gahan,
Fluxion,
Lucky Dragons,
Mad Mike,
Bad Manners,
Khruangbin,
Lightning Bolt,
Rakim,
Gichy Dan,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Association,
UT,
Audionom,
Qualms,
The Happenings,
Sällskapet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang On A Can,
The Names,
Wire,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Judy Mowatt,
Mandrill,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.