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 Marshall Islands and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lalo Schifrin to the grime 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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Scion,
Fear,
Reuben Wilson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Leaves,
The Mummies,
Scrapy,
Johnny Clarke,
Panda Bear,
Man Eating Sloth,
Accadde A,
Nik Kershaw,
Ice-T,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Connie Case,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The J.B.'s,
The Saints,
Inner City,
Fela Kuti,
Mission of Burma,
Peter and Kerry,
Sound Behaviour,
Sällskapet,
Darondo,
Yusef Lateef,
David Bowie,
Throbbing Gristle,
Second Layer,
Ohio Players,
Ronnie Foster,
Aural Exciters,
UT,
Gregory Isaacs,
Livin' Joy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gichy Dan,
Subhumans,
Ponytail,
Marvin Gaye,
Tommy Roe,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
David McCallum,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sister Nancy,
B.T. Express,
Japan,
Lucky Dragons,
Cecil Taylor,
Niagra,
Quantec,
a-ha,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Albert Ayler,
Minny Pops,
Stetsasonic,
Youth Brigade,
Lightning Bolt,
Stiv Bators,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.