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 Venezuela and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 oboe 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 Q65 to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soft Cell,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slackers,
The Black Dice,
Scrapy,
The Count Five,
David Bowie,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Vogues,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gories,
Brick,
Altered Images,
Idris Muhammad,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
CMW,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hasil Adkins,
Surgeon,
UT,
Man Parrish,
Sixth Finger,
Mo-Dettes,
Deadbeat,
Scientists,
Desert Stars,
Severed Heads,
Joyce Sims,
Byron Stingily,
Arthur Verocai,
Ludus,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
DJ Sneak,
Donny Hathaway,
Faust,
Sight & Sound,
Magma,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
Letta Mbulu,
Kerri Chandler,
Bang On A Can,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cure,
The Neon Judgement,
The Smoke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Circle Jerks,
The Kinks,
Ituana,
Jacques Brel,
Brand Nubian,
Icehouse,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.