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 South Africa and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Letta Mbulu to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
John Cale,
Lindisfarne,
Soulsonic Force,
Joe Finger,
The Knickerbockers,
The Searchers,
Andrew Hill,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fatback Band,
Altered Images,
Alphaville,
The Fugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Susan Cadogan,
Dual Sessions,
Gang of Four,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Real Kids,
E-Dancer,
Fear,
Gil Scott Heron,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Starr,
Joensuu 1685,
Television,
Parry Music,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dead Boys,
Reagan Youth,
Neil Young,
Excepter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jacques Brel,
Electric Prunes,
Graham Central Station,
Erykah Badu,
Kas Product,
Dorothy Ashby,
Judy Mowatt,
Khruangbin,
Angry Samoans,
Grauzone,
Black Sheep,
Eddi Front,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hot Snakes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rotary Connection,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mantronix,
JFA,
The Techniques,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.