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 Sudan and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Traffic Nightmare to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Black Pus,
U.S. Maple,
Quantec,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Last Poets,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pulsallama,
Khruangbin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Erykah Badu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Tremeloes,
The Smiths,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Panda Bear,
David Bowie,
AZ,
Slick Rick,
Sandy B,
Technova,
Little Man,
The Fall,
Godley & Creme,
Scion,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wings,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
The Beau Brummels,
Eddi Front,
David McCallum,
The Human League,
The Gap Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Underground Resistance,
Icehouse,
Agitation Free,
Albert Ayler,
Yellowson,
Pylon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ken Boothe,
Vladislav Delay,
Ponytail,
Cheater Slicks,
FM Einheit,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young,
Lee Hazlewood,
Minnie Riperton,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Janne Schatter,
Kaleidoscope,
The Alarm Clocks,
Piero Umiliani,
Rakim,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.