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 Senegal and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar 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 The Index to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Scientists,
Pulsallama,
The Velvet Underground,
the Soft Cell,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Y Pants,
Mr. Review,
Soul II Soul,
Jeff Mills,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fire Engines,
Arcadia,
Cecil Taylor,
Drive Like Jehu,
Howard Jones,
Leonard Cohen,
Camouflage,
Blossom Toes,
Black Bananas,
Mad Mike,
The Move,
Wally Richardson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gichy Dan,
KRS-One,
U.S. Maple,
Ronnie Foster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deadbeat,
Pierre Henry,
Yaz,
Pere Ubu,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
The Five Americans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Slick Rick,
Marine Girls,
Groovy Waters,
Sight & Sound,
Black Moon,
Ice-T,
Crime,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jeff Lynne,
In Retrospect,
Skaos,
The American Breed,
Little Man,
MDC,
Scott Walker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nas,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.