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 Rwanda and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the disco 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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Ronnie Foster,
Smog,
The Misunderstood,
Altered Images,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mark Hollis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blake Baxter,
Eli Mardock,
The Beau Brummels,
Brand Nubian,
Thee Headcoats,
Average White Band,
Reagan Youth,
Fear,
Glenn Branca,
The Young Rascals,
L. Decosne,
Cheater Slicks,
Lower 48,
Lightning Bolt,
Moebius,
Chris Corsano,
The Mighty Diamonds,
H. Thieme,
Wasted Youth,
Brick,
Nation of Ulysses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Section 25,
Charles Mingus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
Bush Tetras,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quadrant,
Mission of Burma,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roxette,
Boredoms,
The Selecter,
Minnie Riperton,
Sparks,
FM Einheit,
Whodini,
Carl Craig,
Leonard Cohen,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Cal Tjader,
Vainqueur,
Rites of Spring,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Delta 5,
Thompson Twins,
The Birthday Party,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kas Product,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.