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 United States and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar 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 ABC to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
UT,
Khruangbin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
Faust,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Knickerbockers,
Avey Tare,
Sex Pistols,
Intrusion,
Tommy Roe,
Lungfish,
Crooked Eye,
The Real Kids,
Terry Callier,
the Normal,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chrome,
Morten Harket,
Wire,
Jeff Lynne,
Little Man,
Isaac Hayes,
Ornette Coleman,
Sugar Minott,
Aloha Tigers,
Blake Baxter,
Darondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Faraquet,
the Slits,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
Michelle Simonal,
Pylon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arcadia,
Dark Day,
Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
Dawn Penn,
Carl Craig,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barrington Levy,
Japan,
Lou Reed,
Jacques Brel,
Marc Almond,
Ludus,
The Remains,
Rapeman,
CMW,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Can,
The Moleskins,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.