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 Mauritania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Pulsallama to the jazz 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Johnny Osbourne,
Model 500,
Ice-T,
Rufus Thomas,
Man Parrish,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Blackbyrds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nik Kershaw,
The Count Five,
Drexciya,
Oneida,
Magazine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mad Mike,
Gong,
Max Romeo,
Fela Kuti,
Simply Red,
Spoonie Gee,
Maurizio,
Glenn Branca,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Chrome,
Bob Dylan,
Rod Modell,
B.T. Express,
Chris & Cosey,
Leonard Cohen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Curtis Mayfield,
Siglo XX,
The Sound,
The Leaves,
Johnny Clarke,
The Happenings,
L. Decosne,
Urselle,
Boz Scaggs,
Sister Nancy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
E-Dancer,
Moss Icon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Pus,
Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Dave Gahan,
X-102,
Newcleus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ossler,
Underground Resistance,
cv313,
Boredoms,
Gang Green,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.