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 Gambia and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Fat Boys to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fuzztones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
K-Klass,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brand Nubian,
Todd Rundgren,
Danielle Patucci,
Liliput,
Dave Gahan,
Audionom,
Inner City,
Black Sheep,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Crash Course in Science,
Cecil Taylor,
The Selecter,
Royal Trux,
The Raincoats,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fad Gadget,
The Music Machine,
F. McDonald,
kango's stein massive,
Matthew Halsall,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sun Ra,
Pylon,
Ultra Naté,
Spoonie Gee,
The Knickerbockers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Davy DMX,
The Invisible,
Bill Wells,
Aural Exciters,
Flipper,
The Red Krayola,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun City Girls,
Reagan Youth,
Skaos,
Newcleus,
Outsiders,
Grauzone,
Metal Thangz,
The Residents,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tomorrow,
The Cure,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Starr,
Kurtis Blow,
Arthur Verocai,
Roy Ayers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Patti Smith,
Scientists,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.