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 Iceland and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 The Fuzztones to the jazz 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Chris & Cosey,
The Detroit Cobras,
B.T. Express,
Marc Almond,
The Moody Blues,
E-Dancer,
Jimmy McGriff,
Carl Craig,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fortunes,
Camouflage,
Tropical Tobacco,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Alton Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Christie,
Eve St. Jones,
Slave,
Thompson Twins,
Vladislav Delay,
Television Personalities,
K-Klass,
Radio Birdman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
Dawn Penn,
Skriet,
Letta Mbulu,
Althea and Donna,
Y Pants,
Ultra Naté,
The Saints,
LL Cool J,
Unrelated Segments,
Ronnie Foster,
Robert Hood,
Skarface,
Qualms,
The Durutti Column,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nirvana,
The Toasters,
Popol Vuh,
Youth Brigade,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Byrd,
Q and Not U,
Organ,
Judy Mowatt,
Sandy B,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Robert Görl,
Unwound,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric Dolphy,
U.S. Maple,
The Index,
The Happenings,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.