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 Chad and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the funk 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a clarinet 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 synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vladislav Delay,
The Shadows of Knight,
Babytalk,
The Gladiators,
The Fall,
Bobby Womack,
The J.B.'s,
Los Fastidios,
Ken Boothe,
Goldenarms,
Patti Smith,
Duran Duran,
Tres Demented,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Maleditus Sound,
Average White Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Quando Quango,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
Terry Callier,
Nils Olav,
Sixth Finger,
Pole,
Sun Ra,
Kayak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scratch Acid,
Boredoms,
D'Angelo,
The Skatalites,
Junior Murvin,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Fugs,
Delta 5,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bluetip,
Pulsallama,
Darondo,
Zero Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
The Blackbyrds,
Eden Ahbez,
Hoover,
Ten City,
The Knickerbockers,
The Litter,
MC5,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.