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 Montenegro and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Letta Mbulu to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
The Mojo Men,
Erykah Badu,
The Fortunes,
Youth Brigade,
The Walker Brothers,
James White and The Blacks,
Deakin,
Todd Terry,
KRS-One,
Intrusion,
Mr. Review,
Average White Band,
The Grass Roots,
Subhumans,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Half Japanese,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Slave,
Organ,
Tim Buckley,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
New Order,
John Lydon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Freddie Wadling,
Oneida,
Cameo,
Black Pus,
Grey Daturas,
Mad Mike,
Throbbing Gristle,
The J.B.'s,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Country Teasers,
Terry Callier,
DNA,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bad Manners,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Darondo,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
Brothers Johnson,
Tears for Fears,
Technova,
The Martian,
Rakim,
Kurtis Blow,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gichy Dan,
The Monks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Peter and Kerry,
a-ha,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.