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 Micronesia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ludus to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Fatback Band,
the Germs,
Trumans Water,
Grauzone,
Lungfish,
Von Mondo,
Toni Rubio,
Johnny Clarke,
Piero Umiliani,
Reuben Wilson,
The Count Five,
Monks,
Isaac Hayes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sarah Menescal,
Franke,
Oblivians,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fall,
Slave,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tubeway Army,
Radiohead,
The Techniques,
Cheater Slicks,
The Evens,
Underground Resistance,
Popol Vuh,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Toasters,
The Names,
The Five Americans,
Malaria!,
Yusef Lateef,
Eve St. Jones,
Leonard Cohen,
Camberwell Now,
Scrapy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gabor Szabo,
The Monochrome Set,
Loose Ends,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
The Walker Brothers,
Kayak,
Youth Brigade,
Nas,
Kerri Chandler,
Television,
Los Fastidios,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Urselle,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Livin' Joy,
One Last Wish,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.