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 Mozambique and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Trojans to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '80s.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
D'Angelo,
Gong,
Bill Near,
Joe Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
Donald Byrd,
Technova,
The Real Kids,
The Move,
Fatback Band,
Outsiders,
Barry Ungar,
This Heat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rites of Spring,
Suicide,
Barclay James Harvest,
Popol Vuh,
David Bowie,
Von Mondo,
LL Cool J,
Panda Bear,
Byron Stingily,
The Monks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gang Green,
Porter Ricks,
Grey Daturas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erykah Badu,
The Techniques,
Brick,
OOIOO,
cv313,
Robert Wyatt,
T. Rex,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joey Negro,
Inner City,
The Busters,
Marmalade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ultra Naté,
Robert Görl,
The Zeros,
The Pretty Things,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Man Parrish,
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
Deadbeat,
Agent Orange,
The Associates,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Blackbyrds,
Marine Girls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.