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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rosa Yemen,
The Fire Engines,
Tropical Tobacco,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Görl,
Al Stewart,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Happenings,
Gastr Del Sol,
Charles Mingus,
Blancmange,
Desert Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dark Day,
Fatback Band,
Parry Music,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Hood,
KRS-One,
The Techniques,
Shoche,
JFA,
The Seeds,
Wally Richardson,
Cameo,
Accadde A,
Babytalk,
Harmonia,
Scratch Acid,
Deakin,
Donny Hathaway,
The Move,
Gerry Rafferty,
Zapp,
Bill Wells,
Tom Boy,
Lalann,
Drexciya,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
The Misunderstood,
L. Decosne,
R.M.O.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visage,
Juan Atkins,
Bill Near,
Ornette Coleman,
David Axelrod,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ponytail,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott Heron,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.