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 Guinea-Bissau and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Techniques to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oblivians,
Procol Harum,
Little Man,
Dave Gahan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kayak,
The Slits,
Jeff Mills,
Vainqueur,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
James White and The Blacks,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Sherman,
Suburban Knight,
Deadbeat,
X-Ray Spex,
Cecil Taylor,
Nils Olav,
The Victims,
Don Cherry,
The Moody Blues,
The Sound,
Icehouse,
The Kinks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Whodini,
Faraquet,
Anakelly,
Sixth Finger,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funkadelic,
Sarah Menescal,
Q and Not U,
Sound Behaviour,
Freddie Wadling,
Can,
Adolescents,
CMW,
Stetsasonic,
The Music Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spandau Ballet,
Scion,
Henry Cow,
La Düsseldorf,
The Misunderstood,
Urselle,
Simply Red,
Unwound,
Youth Brigade,
Marc Almond,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The United States of America,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Interpol,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.