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 Egypt and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nik Kershaw to the dance 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
The Sound,
UT,
Inner City,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television,
Black Pus,
The Evens,
Pylon,
Guru Guru,
The Grass Roots,
Radio Birdman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eurythmics,
Anakelly,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Joensuu 1685,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mission of Burma,
Pere Ubu,
The Slackers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Iggy Pop,
Morten Harket,
The Real Kids,
Judy Mowatt,
Main Source,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tres Demented,
Trumans Water,
Harmonia,
Sällskapet,
Dark Day,
The Selecter,
New Age Steppers,
Donald Byrd,
The Slits,
Organ,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
These Immortal Souls,
Arthur Verocai,
KRS-One,
Warsaw,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crooked Eye,
Alphaville,
The Gun Club,
Saccharine Trust,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fatback Band,
Zero Boys,
Soft Machine,
The Electric Prunes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Susan Cadogan,
Jerry's Kids,
Dawn Penn,
Shuggie Otis,
Roxette,
Man Parrish,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.