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 Luxembourg and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Drexciya to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
Wasted Youth,
Iggy Pop,
Graham Central Station,
The Modern Lovers,
Roy Ayers,
Magazine,
LL Cool J,
Procol Harum,
Tubeway Army,
Sam Rivers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Simply Red,
Eddi Front,
Eve St. Jones,
Unrelated Segments,
the Swans,
Don Cherry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eden Ahbez,
the Association,
Unwound,
Schoolly D,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joe Smooth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Khruangbin,
Judy Mowatt,
The Velvet Underground,
Gastr Del Sol,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
Scientists,
Surgeon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Lynne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ossler,
Nik Kershaw,
Second Layer,
Model 500,
Sixth Finger,
Gang Green,
Alice Coltrane,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fuzztones,
Popol Vuh,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tommy Roe,
Lou Reed,
A Certain Ratio,
Sugar Minott,
Lee Hazlewood,
Franke,
Tres Demented,
Shoche,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Bourne,
JFA,
MC5,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.