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 the UAE and from Copenhagen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bill Wells to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Faraquet,
Tubeway Army,
Hashim,
Fad Gadget,
a-ha,
Glambeats Corp.,
Silicon Teens,
Alton Ellis,
Gastr Del Sol,
Big Daddy Kane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Can,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ten City,
Tim Buckley,
Robert Hood,
Second Layer,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ponytail,
Khruangbin,
Yazoo,
The Gories,
Brass Construction,
Barry Ungar,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pylon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cal Tjader,
Harry Pussy,
The Techniques,
The Litter,
June Days,
The Slackers,
Erasure,
Mad Mike,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lakeside,
Blancmange,
Man Parrish,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Foxx,
Crash Course in Science,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Flipper,
June of 44,
Tommy Roe,
Yusef Lateef,
Magma,
R.M.O.,
Donny Hathaway,
Cybotron,
Eli Mardock,
Pussy Galore,
Quando Quango,
Roxette,
Cluster,
Hardrive,
Gerry Rafferty,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.