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 Guinea-Bissau and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 rhodes 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 T. Rex to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
Wings,
Con Funk Shun,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Bourne,
FM Einheit,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hashim,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bauhaus,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Pretty Things,
Delta 5,
The Zeros,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Wyatt,
Vladislav Delay,
Angry Samoans,
Soft Cell,
The Saints,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Doors,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dave Clark Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Aswad,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skriet,
The Fugs,
Fatback Band,
The Black Dice,
Arthur Verocai,
Pere Ubu,
K-Klass,
New Order,
The Count Five,
Gang Green,
Gichy Dan,
China Crisis,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Byrd,
Cluster,
Unwound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Moon,
John Coltrane,
Niagra,
Sam Rivers,
Nas,
Tim Buckley,
Roxy Music,
In Retrospect,
The Fortunes,
Stetsasonic,
Bronski Beat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.