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 Armenia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Shadows of Knight to the rap 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Byrd,
FM Einheit,
Zero Boys,
Country Teasers,
Popol Vuh,
Tim Buckley,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Hashim,
Grey Daturas,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Smoke,
Procol Harum,
Fear,
Brothers Johnson,
Dead Boys,
Index,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scientists,
Mr. Review,
Chris Corsano,
Jeff Lynne,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dawn Penn,
Can,
Matthew Halsall,
Jandek,
New Order,
Don Cherry,
Shoche,
Amon Düül,
Nik Kershaw,
Yazoo,
The Raincoats,
Lungfish,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bill Near,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brick,
Fugazi,
Ronnie Foster,
Marc Almond,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Simply Red,
Lightning Bolt,
the Association,
Soul Sonic Force,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Visage,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
Joensuu 1685,
Minny Pops,
Pulsallama,
ABBA,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Cale,
the Fania All-Stars,
Buzzcocks,
Ohio Players,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.