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 Slovakia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron 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 Rakim to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Hot Snakes,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Germs,
Metal Thangz,
Motorama,
Infiniti,
Eurythmics,
The Tremeloes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fortunes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Residents,
Wings,
Jeff Mills,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Raincoats,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultravox,
The Modern Lovers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Spoonie Gee,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roger Hodgson,
John Holt,
Davy DMX,
The Flesh Eaters,
Delta 5,
Yaz,
The Stooges,
Absolute Body Control,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Monks,
Rekid,
Suburban Knight,
KRS-One,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
Q and Not U,
Organ,
The Names,
Minor Threat,
MDC,
Magma,
The Associates,
F. McDonald,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Todd Rundgren,
Khruangbin,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Barracudas,
Letta Mbulu,
Don Cherry,
Aloha Tigers,
Faraquet,
Au Pairs,
New York Dolls,
Jacob Miller,
Theoretical Girls,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.