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 Swaziland and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Depeche Mode,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T.S.O.L.,
China Crisis,
Wings,
New Age Steppers,
Khruangbin,
Rosa Yemen,
The Count Five,
Pharoah Sanders,
Yellowson,
Eden Ahbez,
the Germs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roy Ayers,
Rekid,
Robert Wyatt,
The Associates,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Searchers,
Cluster,
Roger Hodgson,
Peter & Gordon,
June Days,
Quadrant,
The Beau Brummels,
The Star Department,
The Human League,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ludus,
The Evens,
Vladislav Delay,
Thompson Twins,
The Mummies,
Sandy B,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hot Snakes,
Tubeway Army,
The Gun Club,
Soul Sonic Force,
Thee Headcoats,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dual Sessions,
Scion,
Cecil Taylor,
The Velvet Underground,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Buzzcocks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sugar Minott,
The Pretty Things,
The Trojans,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.