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 El Salvador and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Warren Ellis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Todd Terry,
In Retrospect,
Henry Cow,
Bang On A Can,
The Trojans,
World's Most,
Yellowson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Todd Rundgren,
Lower 48,
Skriet,
Stereo Dub,
Chris Corsano,
Alton Ellis,
Marine Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lakeside,
Stiv Bators,
Y Pants,
The Stooges,
Easy Going,
The Busters,
Kurtis Blow,
Gichy Dan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
Funky Four + One,
PIL,
Von Mondo,
Alison Limerick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Swans,
Amazonics,
Marmalade,
Tommy Roe,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roxette,
Nik Kershaw,
The Doors,
Sarah Menescal,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Derrick May,
The Raincoats,
Scott Walker,
Average White Band,
Quantec,
John Holt,
Crime,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monks,
The Happenings,
Monolake,
Don Cherry,
Chris & Cosey,
June Days,
John Coltrane,
Shuggie Otis,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.