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 Cape Verde and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Reuben Wilson to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
Minnie Riperton,
Ludus,
Quadrant,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Franke,
Tubeway Army,
The Zeros,
The Cowsills,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Agitation Free,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
Scan 7,
Colin Newman,
The Smiths,
The Gladiators,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barbara Tucker,
The Star Department,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DJ Sneak,
Gabor Szabo,
Joe Finger,
F. McDonald,
Brothers Johnson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Cell,
UT,
KRS-One,
Reuben Wilson,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tomorrow,
David McCallum,
Skarface,
The Victims,
The Mummies,
Flipper,
Slick Rick,
Heaven 17,
Bauhaus,
Hashim,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Cale,
Rapeman,
John Holt,
The Beau Brummels,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
Inner City,
Groovy Waters,
Boz Scaggs,
Surgeon,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.