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 Kuwait and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Soulsonic Force 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Godley & Creme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gregory Isaacs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Siglo XX,
Section 25,
Black Moon,
Pole,
Gichy Dan,
Bluetip,
Visage,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Pus,
Johnny Clarke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Womack,
Audionom,
Black Flag,
Heaven 17,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
MDC,
Cluster,
Eurythmics,
The Stooges,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New York Dolls,
LL Cool J,
David McCallum,
Gang of Four,
Marc Almond,
Henry Cow,
Half Japanese,
Ice-T,
The Young Rascals,
Crooked Eye,
Thompson Twins,
The Shadows of Knight,
Desert Stars,
Buzzcocks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
Ponytail,
This Heat,
Pylon,
Gang Green,
Cybotron,
Sight & Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
Kevin Saunderson,
Colin Newman,
The United States of America,
Ultimate Spinach,
Franke,
The Gladiators,
Thee Headcoats,
Procol Harum,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Subhumans,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.