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 China and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin 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 kango's stein massive to the grunge 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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agitation Free record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Bob Dylan,
The Young Rascals,
Infiniti,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Slick Rick,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Magma,
Sight & Sound,
World's Most,
Aural Exciters,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Velvet Underground,
Malaria!,
Wally Richardson,
Black Bananas,
David Axelrod,
Bauhaus,
the Swans,
H. Thieme,
Ossler,
Joe Finger,
Tears for Fears,
Warsaw,
Rosa Yemen,
Porter Ricks,
LL Cool J,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Five Americans,
Brick,
Eurythmics,
Rakim,
The Dave Clark Five,
Crash Course in Science,
John Holt,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers,
Livin' Joy,
Average White Band,
Mark Hollis,
Arthur Verocai,
Aloha Tigers,
Can,
a-ha,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hasil Adkins,
Connie Case,
Television Personalities,
Absolute Body Control,
Yellowson,
Amon Düül II,
Patti Smith,
The Fugs,
Kool Moe Dee,
DNA,
Interpol,
Brand Nubian,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.