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 Eritrea and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Easy Going to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Q65,
Das Ding,
Mark Hollis,
June of 44,
Oblivians,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Charles Mingus,
Public Enemy,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scrapy,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Beau Brummels,
Fat Boys,
Unwound,
Man Parrish,
Amon Düül,
Aural Exciters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mary Jane Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Patti Smith,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
Eric Copeland,
Rakim,
AZ,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Clear Light,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
The Fuzztones,
L. Decosne,
Con Funk Shun,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Green,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thompson Twins,
Dennis Brown,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grauzone,
Black Bananas,
Lou Christie,
Public Image Ltd.,
R.M.O.,
Tomorrow,
Chris & Cosey,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Throbbing Gristle,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Dark Day,
The Mummies,
Crooked Eye,
Electric Prunes,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slits,
48th St. Collective,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sam Rivers,
Inner City,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.