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 Taiwan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Swell Maps to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Cecil Taylor,
Soft Cell,
Sound Behaviour,
Metal Thangz,
The Last Poets,
Livin' Joy,
Stereo Dub,
The Trojans,
The Buckinghams,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wolf Eyes,
Morten Harket,
Pylon,
Prince Buster,
Bang On A Can,
The Residents,
Ronnie Foster,
Mo-Dettes,
the Human League,
Gong,
Model 500,
Henry Cow,
Pagans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wally Richardson,
Camberwell Now,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-102,
The Walker Brothers,
Index,
Deadbeat,
Matthew Bourne,
Brand Nubian,
Minutemen,
Freddie Wadling,
Aloha Tigers,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Magma,
The Slackers,
Parry Music,
Tubeway Army,
Vainqueur,
Camouflage,
Black Pus,
The Vogues,
Dual Sessions,
Arab on Radar,
Bluetip,
Quadrant,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Intrusion,
Blake Baxter,
Donald Byrd,
Funkadelic,
Khruangbin,
The Moleskins,
Buzzcocks,
OOIOO,
Danielle Patucci,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.