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 Mauritius and from Seoul.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Doobie Brothers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Neil Young,
Al Stewart,
Bootsy Collins,
The Evens,
Dead Boys,
Scratch Acid,
Ronnie Foster,
Terry Callier,
Marmalade,
Crash Course in Science,
Roy Ayers,
Khruangbin,
Unrelated Segments,
Magma,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Real Kids,
Bronski Beat,
Throbbing Gristle,
Minny Pops,
Henry Cow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Peter and Kerry,
Mission of Burma,
Kerri Chandler,
This Heat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Average White Band,
Malaria!,
The Cure,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pylon,
Dennis Brown,
Fugazi,
Sugar Minott,
The Searchers,
Bush Tetras,
The Blackbyrds,
Neu!,
the Sonics,
June of 44,
cv313,
The Dave Clark Five,
Glenn Branca,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Durutti Column,
Quantec,
Quando Quango,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Skaos,
Japan,
Ponytail,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Modern Lovers,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Axelrod,
Warren Ellis,
Pierre Henry,
ABC,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.