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 Panama and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Y Pants to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ludus,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Clarke,
Mo-Dettes,
Chris Corsano,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nas,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Roger Hodgson,
Cluster,
The Skatalites,
the Germs,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anakelly,
Public Enemy,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fortunes,
Rapeman,
Ken Boothe,
The Moleskins,
Black Moon,
Khruangbin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
David McCallum,
Bluetip,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Audionom,
Oblivians,
Warsaw,
The Selecter,
Porter Ricks,
Swell Maps,
Ten City,
Brick,
Tubeway Army,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gap Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eli Mardock,
June of 44,
Frankie Knuckles,
Camberwell Now,
Fad Gadget,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Shoche,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Charles Mingus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soul II Soul,
The Sound,
Gang Starr,
The Buckinghams,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lightning Bolt,
Colin Newman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.