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 Macedonia and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Royal Trux to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Liliput,
Slick Rick,
Au Pairs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fat Boys,
The Star Department,
Yellowson,
Brass Construction,
the Germs,
Ronan,
Howard Jones,
Bluetip,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Invisible,
Max Romeo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Soft Cell,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Durutti Column,
a-ha,
Pere Ubu,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Index,
Outsiders,
Duran Duran,
The Litter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Make Up,
Sugar Minott,
David Axelrod,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Desert Stars,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Skatalites,
Mr. Review,
Aural Exciters,
Youth Brigade,
World's Most,
Judy Mowatt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gun Club,
Pierre Henry,
T.S.O.L.,
Smog,
June of 44,
Warren Ellis,
John Foxx,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Victims,
Negative Approach,
New Age Steppers,
Joey Negro,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radio Birdman,
Moebius,
T. Rex,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.