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 Iran and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Edmonton and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Music Machine 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Laurel Aitken,
Radiohead,
Deakin,
Roxette,
Sound Behaviour,
Banda Bassotti,
Hasil Adkins,
The Standells,
Black Pus,
In Retrospect,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Albert Ayler,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
CMW,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Desert Stars,
X-101,
Alice Coltrane,
Matthew Bourne,
Minutemen,
Maurizio,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alison Limerick,
Easy Going,
Mad Mike,
The Velvet Underground,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pierre Henry,
Boz Scaggs,
Masters at Work,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Slackers,
Altered Images,
Hardrive,
Joe Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultra Naté,
Sam Rivers,
Dark Day,
Little Man,
Quantec,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Pretty Things,
Essential Logic,
Avey Tare,
X-102,
Whodini,
The Gap Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Idris Muhammad,
Infiniti,
Youth Brigade,
The Young Rascals,
The Mummies,
Cybotron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.