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 Jordan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Music Machine,
Soul II Soul,
Peter and Kerry,
Don Cherry,
The Smiths,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kenny Larkin,
Glenn Branca,
PIL,
Electric Prunes,
Archie Shepp,
Anakelly,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Saccharine Trust,
LL Cool J,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tim Buckley,
The Angels of Light,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Skriet,
Excepter,
Essential Logic,
Can,
The Zeros,
Pierre Henry,
Ossler,
X-102,
Royal Trux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monks,
Surgeon,
The Divine Comedy,
Scratch Acid,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Busters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Alice Coltrane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crooked Eye,
Barrington Levy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
This Heat,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mad Mike,
One Last Wish,
Jacques Brel,
Joey Negro,
Fear,
The Sound,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Flamin' Groovies,
Chris Corsano,
Joe Smooth,
James White and The Blacks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Happenings,
Crispian St. Peters,
Peter & Gordon,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.