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 Monaco and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Simply Red 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Stiv Bators,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Colin Newman,
Hoover,
Alison Limerick,
The Leaves,
DJ Sneak,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Arcadia,
Rosa Yemen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mary Jane Girls,
JFA,
Sarah Menescal,
48th St. Collective,
Porter Ricks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boogie Down Productions,
New York Dolls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pulsallama,
Agitation Free,
Franke,
Parry Music,
The American Breed,
X-Ray Spex,
Laurel Aitken,
The Divine Comedy,
Rakim,
David McCallum,
Moss Icon,
Bobby Womack,
The Count Five,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Gregory Isaacs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Yellowson,
Index,
The Pretty Things,
ABC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minnie Riperton,
The Monks,
DNA,
AZ,
Swans,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cure,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oblivians,
Dorothy Ashby,
Archie Shepp,
Joyce Sims,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Slackers,
The Cowsills,
The Remains,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.