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 Turkey and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Carl Craig to the disco 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Harry Pussy,
Niagra,
Joy Division,
Brass Construction,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Slits,
K-Klass,
the Germs,
Depeche Mode,
H. Thieme,
Swell Maps,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Wake,
The Moody Blues,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
The Martian,
Yaz,
Das Ding,
Deepchord,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rites of Spring,
Aloha Tigers,
The Names,
The Vogues,
John Holt,
Rotary Connection,
Magma,
ABBA,
The Dead C,
Bluetip,
Eric Copeland,
Erasure,
Black Bananas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Roy Ayers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
Black Moon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scientists,
Gabor Szabo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Toni Rubio,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Theoretical Girls,
X-102,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
EPMD,
Kas Product,
Ultravox,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harmonia,
The Doors,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.