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 South Africa and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Black Dice to the electroclash 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Althea and Donna,
Idris Muhammad,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stereo Dub,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Raincoats,
Sam Rivers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Pus,
Susan Cadogan,
Underground Resistance,
The New Christs,
Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cheater Slicks,
The Pop Group,
Soft Machine,
Duran Duran,
The Electric Prunes,
Schoolly D,
Gerry Rafferty,
F. McDonald,
Quando Quango,
Traffic Nightmare,
Derrick May,
Leonard Cohen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lightning Bolt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Essential Logic,
Sällskapet,
The Angels of Light,
The Fire Engines,
Scion,
Swell Maps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Pretty Things,
Vladislav Delay,
Agitation Free,
Bobby Sherman,
Isaac Hayes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kayak,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
Chris Corsano,
Wally Richardson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Reagan Youth,
The Associates,
Joyce Sims,
The Mummies,
Marvin Gaye,
Absolute Body Control,
The Dead C,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Invisible,
Intrusion,
Gong,
Royal Trux,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.