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 Georgia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
48th St. Collective,
Lightning Bolt,
The J.B.'s,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jesper Dahlback,
Monolake,
Zero Boys,
Technova,
X-102,
Prince Buster,
Reagan Youth,
Newcleus,
Wasted Youth,
Nirvana,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Busters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Zapp,
Pantaleimon,
Japan,
Q65,
Lou Christie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Y Pants,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Starr,
Scion,
Camberwell Now,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Soft Cell,
Brothers Johnson,
Anthony Braxton,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
James White and The Blacks,
Duran Duran,
Ice-T,
Aaron Thompson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
EPMD,
Donald Byrd,
Lyres,
Man Eating Sloth,
D'Angelo,
The Seeds,
Gang Green,
Donny Hathaway,
The Young Rascals,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Sheep,
Eric Copeland,
John Coltrane,
T.S.O.L.,
Albert Ayler,
Basic Channel,
The American Breed,
Moss Icon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Visage,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.