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 Portugal and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Aaron Thompson 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Young Marble Giants,
Quadrant,
Porter Ricks,
Terry Callier,
Shuggie Otis,
The Motions,
Black Bananas,
DNA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Trumans Water,
Livin' Joy,
Stiv Bators,
Fad Gadget,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cluster,
UT,
Idris Muhammad,
Camouflage,
Skarface,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
The Tremeloes,
Jacques Brel,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harry Pussy,
Lyres,
Reuben Wilson,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Womack,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bob Dylan,
Cymande,
Pantaleimon,
Roxette,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minor Threat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Count Five,
The Techniques,
K-Klass,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Carl Craig,
Oblivians,
Flamin' Groovies,
Royal Trux,
Boredoms,
Donald Byrd,
D'Angelo,
Smog,
The Toasters,
The Barracudas,
Eve St. Jones,
Brothers Johnson,
Soulsonic Force,
Tropical Tobacco,
Organ,
Cameo,
Ken Boothe,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.