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 Jamaica and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ 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 The Selecter to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Matthew Bourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Prince Buster,
Tim Buckley,
Eden Ahbez,
The Techniques,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pierre Henry,
The Saints,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Hutcherson,
X-101,
Freddie Wadling,
The Seeds,
KRS-One,
Ronnie Foster,
Nirvana,
Delta 5,
H. Thieme,
DNA,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marcia Griffiths,
Popol Vuh,
David Bowie,
Underground Resistance,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Radio Birdman,
Goldenarms,
Yusef Lateef,
Qualms,
Talk Talk,
Easy Going,
Dawn Penn,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camouflage,
Lightning Bolt,
Dark Day,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Funky Four + One,
Harmonia,
Scott Walker,
The Slits,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Basic Channel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joey Negro,
The Residents,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crash Course in Science,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Index,
Sandy B,
Arthur Verocai,
Amazonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.