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 Dominican Republic and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nils Olav to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lakeside,
Stetsasonic,
Josef K,
Derrick Morgan,
Boz Scaggs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Unwound,
Neil Young,
The Beau Brummels,
Robert Görl,
The Monks,
Kas Product,
Sun City Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Sheep,
Laurel Aitken,
Magma,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bush Tetras,
The Music Machine,
Ice-T,
Monks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Harmonia,
Suicide,
Amon Düül II,
Skriet,
Yusef Lateef,
Alton Ellis,
Scan 7,
Sugar Minott,
The Red Krayola,
Ossler,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Toni Rubio,
Massinfluence,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bill Wells,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Techniques,
Cheater Slicks,
In Retrospect,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Litter,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
A Certain Ratio,
Scratch Acid,
Babytalk,
Donny Hathaway,
Henry Cow,
Lungfish,
The Cramps,
Bobby Byrd,
Nirvana,
Lou Reed,
Rhythm & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
Loose Ends,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.