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 the UAE and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Derrick May to the punk 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Chris Corsano,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jacob Miller,
Hot Snakes,
Anakelly,
Ronnie Foster,
UT,
JFA,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Young Rascals,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Charles Mingus,
Adolescents,
Agent Orange,
Monks,
Y Pants,
Alton Ellis,
The Stooges,
Circle Jerks,
The Sonics,
ABBA,
Magazine,
Junior Murvin,
The Walker Brothers,
Ice-T,
The Gories,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric Dolphy,
Moby Grape,
Franke,
the Germs,
The Toasters,
Sun Ra,
Ken Boothe,
Pierre Henry,
Ponytail,
Max Romeo,
Black Moon,
The Saints,
The Zeros,
Eric Copeland,
Jeff Mills,
New Order,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stiv Bators,
Andrew Hill,
Absolute Body Control,
Hardrive,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
U.S. Maple,
The American Breed,
Sound Behaviour,
Barbara Tucker,
The Doobie Brothers,
Malaria!,
K-Klass,
the Human League,
Slick Rick,
Cymande,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.