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 Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Shuggie Otis to the punk 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Albert Ayler,
Au Pairs,
Porter Ricks,
Suburban Knight,
The Names,
Flipper,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Cure,
Yusef Lateef,
John Foxx,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Saints,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kenny Larkin,
Gichy Dan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Hill,
Silicon Teens,
The Raincoats,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ronnie Foster,
Nas,
The Sound,
Bobby Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kevin Saunderson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gap Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Association,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rites of Spring,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric Dolphy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Big Daddy Kane,
Flash Fearless,
The Cramps,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Procol Harum,
Jimmy McGriff,
kango's stein massive,
The United States of America,
the Soft Cell,
Cameo,
Magma,
Anakelly,
The Alarm Clocks,
Underground Resistance,
Dave Gahan,
Dual Sessions,
The Blues Magoos,
Yellowson,
Colin Newman,
Con Funk Shun,
Babytalk,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.