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 Israel and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ituana to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Modern Lovers,
The Pop Group,
Minnie Riperton,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran,
FM Einheit,
Scott Walker,
Crash Course in Science,
The Saints,
Thompson Twins,
Arthur Verocai,
John Cale,
The Electric Prunes,
The Toasters,
Rekid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fat Boys,
Warren Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
Andrew Hill,
Ten City,
Judy Mowatt,
Jerry's Kids,
JFA,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bauhaus,
Supertramp,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Gang Dance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-101,
Sixth Finger,
Donald Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Clear Light,
Eli Mardock,
The Mummies,
Mission of Burma,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tomorrow,
Royal Trux,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Trumans Water,
Pagans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lou Reed,
Mo-Dettes,
Brass Construction,
Hoover,
the Swans,
Jeff Lynne,
Blossom Toes,
Cybotron,
CMW,
Swell Maps,
Nirvana,
Michelle Simonal,
Dual Sessions,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.