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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Birthday Party,
Skriet,
Brass Construction,
Funkadelic,
Fatback Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Coltrane,
Yazoo,
Inner City,
Susan Cadogan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
New York Dolls,
Liliput,
The Sound,
The Searchers,
Suburban Knight,
Brand Nubian,
Dark Day,
The Misunderstood,
Panda Bear,
Matthew Bourne,
Kool Moe Dee,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smoke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Peter and Kerry,
The Motions,
Pet Shop Boys,
Little Man,
Robert Wyatt,
The Tremeloes,
Bluetip,
Aural Exciters,
Ultra Naté,
Deadbeat,
Parry Music,
The Toasters,
Eric Dolphy,
Wire,
Model 500,
Gabor Szabo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marmalade,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Moss Icon,
Jawbox,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wally Richardson,
Average White Band,
John Foxx,
Subhumans,
Black Bananas,
Motorama,
The Remains,
Q and Not U,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Grauzone,
The Doors,
In Retrospect,
Tres Demented,
John Cale,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.