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 Ireland and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the rap 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Patti Smith,
Minutemen,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Peter and Kerry,
Susan Cadogan,
Connie Case,
Robert Görl,
Kevin Saunderson,
Smog,
Judy Mowatt,
The Moody Blues,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
The Standells,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
Main Source,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kas Product,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heaven 17,
Godley & Creme,
Moebius,
Shoche,
JFA,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers,
Nils Olav,
Erykah Badu,
Marshall Jefferson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sparks,
Marvin Gaye,
Blossom Toes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cowsills,
Siglo XX,
Pharoah Sanders,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Electric Prunes,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Angels of Light,
Arthur Verocai,
The Searchers,
The Cure,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grauzone,
Fatback Band,
Talk Talk,
Organ,
Grey Daturas,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Frankie Knuckles,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marine Girls,
Urselle,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.