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 Guinea and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Banda Bassotti to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
The Toasters,
Babytalk,
Hardrive,
Harry Pussy,
Unwound,
Buzzcocks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brick,
Hoover,
Malaria!,
Alphaville,
Surgeon,
Hot Snakes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gichy Dan,
The Human League,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moby Grape,
Flipper,
David McCallum,
Ten City,
June Days,
The Selecter,
The Misunderstood,
Eurythmics,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Average White Band,
Howard Jones,
The Pretty Things,
Y Pants,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Bar-Kays,
Toni Rubio,
Thompson Twins,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ronan,
Derrick Morgan,
Pantaleimon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Funkadelic,
Soft Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Model 500,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
La Düsseldorf,
Technova,
The Associates,
Black Flag,
Joy Division,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul II Soul,
Suburban Knight,
Jeff Lynne,
Roy Ayers,
Cybotron,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry's Kids,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.