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 Uzbekistan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 snare 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the grime 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Robert Hood,
The Fall,
Stetsasonic,
Marmalade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Magazine,
The Golliwogs,
Fat Boys,
Flamin' Groovies,
Roy Ayers,
The Wake,
Panda Bear,
Michelle Simonal,
A Certain Ratio,
Lou Christie,
Sarah Menescal,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
EPMD,
The Grass Roots,
Sam Rivers,
Excepter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
Pere Ubu,
The Stooges,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Max Romeo,
Pierre Henry,
The Fortunes,
Byron Stingily,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Alphaville,
Circle Jerks,
John Cale,
Bobby Sherman,
U.S. Maple,
Thompson Twins,
The Monks,
Mad Mike,
Aaron Thompson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pulsallama,
Amazonics,
These Immortal Souls,
Rhythm & Sound,
LL Cool J,
Main Source,
The Gun Club,
Wings,
Icehouse,
Rites of Spring,
Roxy Music,
Bush Tetras,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Procol Harum,
Gang Starr,
Vainqueur,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.