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 Moldova and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 H. Thieme to the rock 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Saints,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rhythm & Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jerry Gold Smith,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Eve St. Jones,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
the Germs,
JFA,
The Grass Roots,
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
X-Ray Spex,
Idris Muhammad,
The Mummies,
Crime,
The Fugs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Davy DMX,
Malaria!,
Erykah Badu,
Masters at Work,
Curtis Mayfield,
Smog,
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
Trumans Water,
Laurel Aitken,
The Barracudas,
June Days,
Babytalk,
The Martian,
Barbara Tucker,
La Düsseldorf,
Freddie Wadling,
The Wake,
Black Pus,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultra Naté,
Eric Copeland,
Deepchord,
the Sonics,
Cybotron,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
The Divine Comedy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Yusef Lateef,
Maurizio,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roy Ayers,
Gang Green,
Gabor Szabo,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.