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 Turkey and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Aswad to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Gang of Four,
The Associates,
8 Eyed Spy,
Arab on Radar,
Isaac Hayes,
Ohio Players,
the Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ossler,
Piero Umiliani,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swell Maps,
Surgeon,
MDC,
Donald Byrd,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Sisters of Mercy,
K-Klass,
John Cale,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
Quantec,
The Blackbyrds,
Neil Young,
Faust,
Grey Daturas,
Wings,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pulsallama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Clear Light,
Fela Kuti,
The Toasters,
Malaria!,
Intrusion,
Arcadia,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
Aswad,
Infiniti,
Tears for Fears,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cure,
The Slits,
Traffic Nightmare,
UT,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Residents,
Slick Rick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harry Pussy,
Blancmange,
Andrew Hill,
Radiohead,
Rapeman,
The Gories,
Gang Green,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Normal,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.