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 Ethiopia and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba 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 Mr. Review to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
The Moody Blues,
Bizarre Inc.,
Grey Daturas,
ABC,
Franke,
The Neon Judgement,
Yusef Lateef,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ornette Coleman,
Supertramp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Altered Images,
Subhumans,
Eddi Front,
Young Marble Giants,
Susan Cadogan,
Swans,
Pantytec,
Robert Wyatt,
Dawn Penn,
The Wake,
Blossom Toes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Public Enemy,
Jandek,
Alphaville,
the Germs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Raincoats,
Tomorrow,
Monolake,
The Selecter,
Warren Ellis,
One Last Wish,
Darondo,
Bauhaus,
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Archie Shepp,
Stetsasonic,
Maleditus Sound,
Organ,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bronski Beat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Byrd,
Mr. Review,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Angels of Light,
The Dead C,
Von Mondo,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
In Retrospect,
Easy Going,
Erykah Badu,
Radio Birdman,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.