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 Indonesia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 güiro 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 Popol Vuh to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
E-Dancer,
Gichy Dan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
Dawn Penn,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Freddie Wadling,
Rotary Connection,
The Monochrome Set,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pagans,
The Fuzztones,
The Blues Magoos,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Darondo,
Liliput,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Juan Atkins,
Arab on Radar,
Television,
Essential Logic,
Marine Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
The Busters,
Arcadia,
Young Marble Giants,
Connie Case,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sex Pistols,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ituana,
Jeff Lynne,
Howard Jones,
The Moleskins,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Modern Lovers,
Average White Band,
Moss Icon,
Flipper,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Maleditus Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
U.S. Maple,
The Skatalites,
Soft Machine,
Index,
Rapeman,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Music Machine,
Swell Maps,
Albert Ayler,
Camouflage,
Angry Samoans,
Lower 48,
Youth Brigade,
Wally Richardson,
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.