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 Papua New Guinea and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Near,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tommy Roe,
Arab on Radar,
Althea and Donna,
Magazine,
Pylon,
The Fugs,
Yusef Lateef,
E-Dancer,
Wolf Eyes,
Deepchord,
Radiopuhelimet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Eurythmics,
Anthony Braxton,
Scan 7,
The Electric Prunes,
Rites of Spring,
Harry Pussy,
Warsaw,
Ralphi Rosario,
Silicon Teens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Blackbyrds,
The Doobie Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harmonia,
June Days,
Jeff Lynne,
Groovy Waters,
Das Ding,
Q65,
Interpol,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Skriet,
Bluetip,
Judy Mowatt,
The Doors,
Janne Schatter,
Bobby Womack,
Rosa Yemen,
The Star Department,
Bob Dylan,
Shuggie Otis,
Inner City,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cecil Taylor,
Sandy B,
The Cramps,
Joe Smooth,
Albert Ayler,
AZ,
ABC,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fuzztones,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.