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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Ossler to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Severed Heads,
The Selecter,
the Slits,
The Associates,
The Fire Engines,
Sight & Sound,
Public Enemy,
Aaron Thompson,
The Blackbyrds,
Eurythmics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Count Five,
Crash Course in Science,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pole,
Roger Hodgson,
LL Cool J,
8 Eyed Spy,
Flipper,
Fear,
Michelle Simonal,
Motorama,
Ludus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Simply Red,
Drive Like Jehu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Circle Jerks,
T.S.O.L.,
Donald Byrd,
Pere Ubu,
Los Fastidios,
Wally Richardson,
Graham Central Station,
Sandy B,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mars,
The Monochrome Set,
Marine Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scan 7,
Lakeside,
JFA,
L. Decosne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Index,
Maleditus Sound,
Trumans Water,
CMW,
OOIOO,
The Invisible,
Pylon,
Q and Not U,
the Bar-Kays,
Khruangbin,
John Holt,
Franke,
Gang Green,
Eddi Front,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.