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 Somalia and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Music Machine to the grunge 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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Kerrie Biddell,
EPMD,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arthur Verocai,
Desert Stars,
The Gladiators,
Trumans Water,
The Remains,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
JFA,
Rapeman,
Camouflage,
Yusef Lateef,
ABC,
Jacob Miller,
the Germs,
Marine Girls,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
One Last Wish,
Aaron Thompson,
Camberwell Now,
FM Einheit,
Mission of Burma,
The Last Poets,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pantytec,
Bill Near,
Pantaleimon,
Gong,
Joensuu 1685,
Moby Grape,
Blake Baxter,
Animal Collective,
Sun Ra,
Howard Jones,
Tim Buckley,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Surgeon,
The Victims,
Maurizio,
The Music Machine,
Ralphi Rosario,
Audionom,
The Seeds,
Man Parrish,
Derrick Morgan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Altered Images,
Minutemen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Von Mondo,
The Five Americans,
Joy Division,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Deadbeat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Blackbyrds,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.