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 Yemen and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro 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 Swell Maps to the disco 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Inner City,
KRS-One,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Moody Blues,
June of 44,
The Busters,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fire Engines,
Lindisfarne,
The Pretty Things,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Brothers Johnson,
Chrome,
Slave,
Parry Music,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Standells,
Glambeats Corp.,
UT,
Quadrant,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Quando Quango,
Malaria!,
The Young Rascals,
Sister Nancy,
Silicon Teens,
Derrick May,
Zero Boys,
Moby Grape,
Wasted Youth,
John Lydon,
Girls At Our Best!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Drexciya,
Leonard Cohen,
The Cure,
Babytalk,
Television,
The Monks,
Gong,
Fear,
Basic Channel,
Angry Samoans,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy Collins,
Man Parrish,
Mission of Burma,
Sparks,
Magma,
New York Dolls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Junior Murvin,
Pole,
X-Ray Spex,
Excepter,
L. Decosne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Subhumans,
Nik Kershaw,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.