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 Australia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Swell Maps to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Letta Mbulu,
Freddie Wadling,
Nation of Ulysses,
David Bowie,
Harry Pussy,
Gang of Four,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sam Rivers,
The Vogues,
Delon & Dalcan,
Al Stewart,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Funky Four + One,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arthur Verocai,
Deadbeat,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Khruangbin,
Fad Gadget,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultra Naté,
Main Source,
Fugazi,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yazoo,
48th St. Collective,
cv313,
Cameo,
Junior Murvin,
Eric Dolphy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fall,
Joe Finger,
The Motions,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Funkadelic,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Little Man,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Barracudas,
Anthony Braxton,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Make Up,
Albert Ayler,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cramps,
The Music Machine,
Marc Almond,
T. Rex,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grauzone,
Surgeon,
Pet Shop Boys,
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.