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 Libya and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Barrington Levy to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Japan,
Brick,
Josef K,
Morten Harket,
Robert Hood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nils Olav,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wasted Youth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
Grey Daturas,
Quadrant,
Wire,
Marine Girls,
Erasure,
Sixth Finger,
David Bowie,
Hot Snakes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Blossom Toes,
Public Enemy,
Glenn Branca,
Erykah Badu,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Youth Brigade,
The Names,
Eden Ahbez,
Electric Prunes,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Byrd,
The Moody Blues,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deepchord,
Goldenarms,
Anthony Braxton,
Parry Music,
Howard Jones,
Cymande,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Sneak,
The Sonics,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Michelle Simonal,
Terry Callier,
Lou Christie,
Black Flag,
Sugar Minott,
Half Japanese,
World's Most,
Mandrill,
H. Thieme,
The Dead C,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Moon,
The Techniques,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.