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 Argentina and from Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
The Saints,
The Monochrome Set,
The Smiths,
the Swans,
Rod Modell,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rhythm & Sound,
Matthew Bourne,
Siglo XX,
Rapeman,
OOIOO,
The Raincoats,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
The Blackbyrds,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joy Division,
Sugar Minott,
Funkadelic,
Severed Heads,
Erykah Badu,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
Dennis Brown,
AZ,
Roger Hodgson,
The Music Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cowsills,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doors,
Stockholm Monsters,
Heaven 17,
Television,
Silicon Teens,
Thompson Twins,
Interpol,
Henry Cow,
Al Stewart,
the Germs,
The Count Five,
Joyce Sims,
Toni Rubio,
Outsiders,
Michelle Simonal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
PIL,
Public Enemy,
Monks,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Reed,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Little Man,
Cecil Taylor,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jawbox,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.