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 Kosovo and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar 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 Scan 7 to the crunk 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Leaves,
Rites of Spring,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camberwell Now,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Von Mondo,
New Order,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mandrill,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Malaria!,
The Modern Lovers,
Wasted Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mantronix,
Ronan,
Pantytec,
Ken Boothe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Agitation Free,
Blossom Toes,
The Raincoats,
Michelle Simonal,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Heaven 17,
Public Enemy,
Half Japanese,
Au Pairs,
Excepter,
Idris Muhammad,
The Star Department,
Robert Wyatt,
Erasure,
The Slits,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Aloha Tigers,
Sex Pistols,
Roger Hodgson,
Steve Hackett,
Schoolly D,
Moss Icon,
Crispian St. Peters,
Aural Exciters,
Little Man,
Shuggie Otis,
The Sonics,
Gastr Del Sol,
Terry Callier,
Essential Logic,
Can,
The Standells,
Pussy Galore,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.