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 Jordan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rakim,
Jesper Dahlback,
Junior Murvin,
David Bowie,
Arthur Verocai,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
The Barracudas,
Scrapy,
Aswad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Johnny Osbourne,
Television Personalities,
Underground Resistance,
Connie Case,
Porter Ricks,
Scan 7,
Cheater Slicks,
Lou Reed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marine Girls,
Black Moon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
The Last Poets,
Symarip,
Graham Central Station,
Lower 48,
Gang Green,
Clear Light,
Franke,
D'Angelo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minny Pops,
Fear,
Half Japanese,
Accadde A,
Chrome,
Sandy B,
The Gladiators,
The Neon Judgement,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marvin Gaye,
Gichy Dan,
Aural Exciters,
H. Thieme,
Pylon,
Thee Headcoats,
the Germs,
Technova,
The Slackers,
Depeche Mode,
The Leaves,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Real Kids,
Scott Walker,
the Soft Cell,
Sight & Sound,
Zapp,
Cecil Taylor,
The Mummies,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.