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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kevin Saunderson 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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bob Dylan,
Soulsonic Force,
Urselle,
Shuggie Otis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ronan,
Toni Rubio,
Minnie Riperton,
Arcadia,
Circle Jerks,
Main Source,
Adolescents,
Deakin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Qualms,
Sällskapet,
The Smiths,
Hot Snakes,
Radiohead,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
U.S. Maple,
The Slits,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric Dolphy,
Nik Kershaw,
David Axelrod,
Henry Cow,
Bootsy Collins,
Connie Case,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Mills,
Moss Icon,
Thee Headcoats,
John Foxx,
The Trojans,
John Coltrane,
Rufus Thomas,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Starr,
Dual Sessions,
Groovy Waters,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Sheep,
Michelle Simonal,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick May,
Stereo Dub,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sugar Minott,
Con Funk Shun,
Ponytail,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
Kenny Larkin,
AZ,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.