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 Burundi and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Byron Stingily to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Byron Stingily,
Intrusion,
Jacob Miller,
Soft Machine,
Slave,
Interpol,
Saccharine Trust,
Gregory Isaacs,
Swans,
Rakim,
Scott Walker,
The Music Machine,
Monks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brick,
Howard Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barrington Levy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fad Gadget,
Harry Pussy,
Vainqueur,
Erasure,
Alison Limerick,
Godley & Creme,
Pantaleimon,
Chrome,
Soft Cell,
The Fire Engines,
Marmalade,
Camouflage,
Wings,
Ludus,
Davy DMX,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
Max Romeo,
Ornette Coleman,
Carl Craig,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Stooges,
Lucky Dragons,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Negative Approach,
The Trojans,
Sällskapet,
Pagans,
The Blues Magoos,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cecil Taylor,
Rekid,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crime,
Thee Headcoats,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.