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 Mauritania and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Modern Lovers to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Bill Wells,
Pole,
Al Stewart,
The Tremeloes,
Roxy Music,
Brass Construction,
Minor Threat,
Ten City,
Eurythmics,
Gang Starr,
The Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
PIL,
Gong,
Eddi Front,
Yazoo,
Marvin Gaye,
The Standells,
Lungfish,
The Last Poets,
DJ Sneak,
Sly & The Family Stone,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ice-T,
The Residents,
Whodini,
Ituana,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Hood,
Cymande,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Livin' Joy,
Prince Buster,
AZ,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nirvana,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Sheep,
The Names,
Surgeon,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
Accadde A,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Parrish,
The Fuzztones,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Clear Light,
Bluetip,
Saccharine Trust,
Rakim,
Interpol,
Goldenarms,
The Moody Blues,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.