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 Indonesia and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kevin Saunderson to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Pole,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Wake,
Tom Boy,
Soulsonic Force,
Urselle,
The Gun Club,
Sam Rivers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Model 500,
a-ha,
Bobby Womack,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ice-T,
Gang Starr,
Andrew Hill,
Deadbeat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mo-Dettes,
T.S.O.L.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Essential Logic,
Henry Cow,
Sister Nancy,
Albert Ayler,
Sex Pistols,
The Slits,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bang On A Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Evens,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Adolescents,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ossler,
Kaleidoscope,
Nas,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun Ra,
The Monks,
Janne Schatter,
The Modern Lovers,
Neil Young,
Funky Four + One,
Tres Demented,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marmalade,
Can,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sandy B,
Pere Ubu,
Soft Machine,
Shoche,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.