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 East Timor and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Mad Mike to the electroclash 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Quadrant,
Thompson Twins,
The Skatalites,
The Smiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Popol Vuh,
The Selecter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Arab on Radar,
The Slackers,
Sam Rivers,
Television,
David Bowie,
Subhumans,
Inner City,
Black Sheep,
The Blackbyrds,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Shoche,
Ice-T,
The Fire Engines,
Quantec,
The Knickerbockers,
Maurizio,
Smog,
Rosa Yemen,
Rod Modell,
Skriet,
Alice Coltrane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Matthew Halsall,
Tommy Roe,
the Sonics,
the Human League,
The Dead C,
Harpers Bizarre,
48th St. Collective,
Toni Rubio,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gladiators,
Excepter,
Junior Murvin,
Ronnie Foster,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers,
The Five Americans,
AZ,
the Soft Cell,
Monks,
John Coltrane,
Hoover,
The Music Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Christie,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.