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 Czech Republic and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
In Retrospect,
Parry Music,
The Kinks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Suburban Knight,
Sex Pistols,
Nirvana,
Index,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Quadrant,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vainqueur,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nik Kershaw,
Amon Düül II,
Pylon,
Sarah Menescal,
Derrick May,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pulsallama,
The Neon Judgement,
John Holt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Radio Birdman,
MC5,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Juan Atkins,
Stiv Bators,
The Monks,
Technova,
CMW,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Avey Tare,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Isaac Hayes,
Ronnie Foster,
Thee Headcoats,
June Days,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crime,
Lindisfarne,
New Order,
The Five Americans,
Lou Christie,
Boz Scaggs,
Das Ding,
Faraquet,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.