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 Romania and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
K-Klass,
X-101,
Magma,
Nation of Ulysses,
The United States of America,
Blossom Toes,
Pantytec,
Country Teasers,
Robert Wyatt,
Bob Dylan,
Ronnie Foster,
The Birthday Party,
The Smoke,
Deadbeat,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Accadde A,
Organ,
Newcleus,
Bobby Byrd,
Shoche,
Urselle,
Jimmy McGriff,
Niagra,
Tres Demented,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lindisfarne,
Sun City Girls,
The Five Americans,
Funkadelic,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sonic Youth,
Mission of Burma,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pylon,
Heaven 17,
Babytalk,
Brass Construction,
Jacob Miller,
The Dirtbombs,
The Offenders,
Barbara Tucker,
Matthew Halsall,
Althea and Donna,
Deakin,
Duran Duran,
Young Marble Giants,
Eric Dolphy,
Arcadia,
T.S.O.L.,
Guru Guru,
Scratch Acid,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
The Techniques,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.