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 Hungary and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bronski Beat to the grunge 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Pere Ubu,
Sixth Finger,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Names,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lucky Dragons,
kango's stein massive,
Black Bananas,
Terry Callier,
Desert Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ohio Players,
L. Decosne,
Kayak,
The Mummies,
The Martian,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Model 500,
Quando Quango,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Godley & Creme,
Sarah Menescal,
Alice Coltrane,
Talk Talk,
Dawn Penn,
Davy DMX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Altered Images,
Icehouse,
Animal Collective,
Carl Craig,
Yazoo,
Motorama,
Gang Green,
Siglo XX,
Das Ding,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gregory Isaacs,
Josef K,
Byron Stingily,
New Age Steppers,
Laurel Aitken,
Procol Harum,
the Slits,
Aaron Thompson,
Donny Hathaway,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultimate Spinach,
David Axelrod,
the Association,
Sonic Youth,
Maurizio,
Bobby Sherman,
John Lydon,
Half Japanese,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultra Naté,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.