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 Turkey and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boogie Down Productions to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grauzone,
Hot Snakes,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moss Icon,
Q and Not U,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sound Behaviour,
Zero Boys,
Camouflage,
Blancmange,
Fatback Band,
Clear Light,
Althea and Donna,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Carl Craig,
Jacques Brel,
Archie Shepp,
Stetsasonic,
Gang of Four,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Erasure,
Echospace,
Lou Reed,
Dawn Penn,
Hardrive,
Jeff Mills,
the Sonics,
Robert Hood,
The Fortunes,
Joensuu 1685,
The Associates,
Graham Central Station,
New York Dolls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eric Copeland,
Essential Logic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nico,
Can,
Mandrill,
Slave,
Organ,
Babytalk,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Buzzcocks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ronan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.