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 Azerbaijan and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Stereo Dub to the jazz 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fortunes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marine Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Visage,
Wally Richardson,
Eve St. Jones,
Yazoo,
Harry Pussy,
Lindisfarne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rakim,
Second Layer,
World's Most,
Jeff Mills,
Freddie Wadling,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New York Dolls,
Graham Central Station,
The Index,
Robert Görl,
Scratch Acid,
Rotary Connection,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill,
The Fugs,
Nas,
Lou Christie,
Aswad,
The Black Dice,
Smog,
the Bar-Kays,
Marvin Gaye,
Fluxion,
Main Source,
New Age Steppers,
Monks,
Sällskapet,
The Invisible,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Reuben Wilson,
Charles Mingus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
The Gories,
Black Pus,
AZ,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Leaves,
Mad Mike,
Fugazi,
a-ha,
Nation of Ulysses,
Minny Pops,
The Cure,
Cheater Slicks,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.