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 Brunei and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Jakarta.
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 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 Rod Modell to the dance 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Organ,
Skaos,
MDC,
Guru Guru,
Smog,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wolf Eyes,
Pierre Henry,
Interpol,
Cheater Slicks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Toni Rubio,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hashim,
Arab on Radar,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mark Hollis,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Radio Birdman,
Subhumans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Carl Craig,
Index,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flipper,
The Angels of Light,
Chrome,
The Slackers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Seeds,
Maurizio,
The Velvet Underground,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Electric Prunes,
The Residents,
Soulsonic Force,
Peter and Kerry,
Archie Shepp,
Drexciya,
X-Ray Spex,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Music Machine,
Tim Buckley,
Robert Wyatt,
The Dirtbombs,
David McCallum,
Wally Richardson,
DNA,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Martian,
Sonny Sharrock,
OOIOO,
Moebius,
One Last Wish,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
New Age Steppers,
The Remains,
Marvin Gaye,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.