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 Cyprus and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sandy B to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Visage,
Country Teasers,
Ronan,
The Birthday Party,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Angels of Light,
Faust,
Make Up,
Archie Shepp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
The Buckinghams,
Scientists,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Matthew Bourne,
PIL,
Suicide,
Junior Murvin,
Joy Division,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ohio Players,
In Retrospect,
Essential Logic,
The Velvet Underground,
CMW,
Carl Craig,
Wire,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gories,
Siglo XX,
The Martian,
Depeche Mode,
The Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Byron Stingily,
F. McDonald,
The Remains,
John Holt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Grass Roots,
Connie Case,
Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
AZ,
Josef K,
Mission of Burma,
Au Pairs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gang of Four,
The Invisible,
Maleditus Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Trojans,
Al Stewart,
Barry Ungar,
The Litter,
Half Japanese,
Drexciya,
Sex Pistols,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.