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 South Sudan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Robert Wyatt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Zero Boys,
Arcadia,
Roger Hodgson,
Eli Mardock,
Erasure,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Count Five,
Warsaw,
Don Cherry,
Bootsy Collins,
The Beau Brummels,
the Germs,
The Fortunes,
Nirvana,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deakin,
Technova,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Womack,
Tomorrow,
Tom Boy,
the Sonics,
Liliput,
Gang Green,
U.S. Maple,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobby Sherman,
The Residents,
Kayak,
Godley & Creme,
Audionom,
Das Ding,
Connie Case,
cv313,
Skarface,
Barrington Levy,
The Knickerbockers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Minny Pops,
Bush Tetras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fire Engines,
Michelle Simonal,
John Cale,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Alice Coltrane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
F. McDonald,
Franke,
Pulsallama,
Cheater Slicks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
David McCallum,
Alison Limerick,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nick Fraelich,
Minor Threat,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.