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 Burundi and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Sam Rivers to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nils Olav,
Oblivians,
X-Ray Spex,
The Saints,
Con Funk Shun,
Vainqueur,
Cluster,
Surgeon,
Fatback Band,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
This Heat,
The Tremeloes,
The Dirtbombs,
X-102,
Pylon,
DJ Sneak,
Angry Samoans,
Hardrive,
Todd Rundgren,
Suburban Knight,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Smog,
Alton Ellis,
Laurel Aitken,
Schoolly D,
Magma,
New Order,
The Mummies,
DNA,
Ken Boothe,
Youth Brigade,
Graham Central Station,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric Copeland,
Franke,
Ultimate Spinach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ronan,
Loose Ends,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Germs,
Motorama,
The Toasters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mr. Review,
R.M.O.,
Robert Wyatt,
Rapeman,
Deakin,
Siglo XX,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Byrd,
Robert Görl,
Tommy Roe,
Slave,
The Index,
The Electric Prunes,
June Days,
The Modern Lovers,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.