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 Burkina and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Subhumans to the disco 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Television,
Scientists,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
Rakim,
Erasure,
Saccharine Trust,
Nico,
Roger Hodgson,
Icehouse,
Trumans Water,
Kenny Larkin,
Brand Nubian,
The Gap Band,
Parry Music,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scrapy,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gang of Four,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cecil Taylor,
Ornette Coleman,
Dave Gahan,
Faraquet,
Piero Umiliani,
Royal Trux,
Magma,
L. Decosne,
T.S.O.L.,
Rufus Thomas,
Newcleus,
Max Romeo,
a-ha,
Bill Near,
The Techniques,
Desert Stars,
Girls At Our Best!,
Youth Brigade,
Nas,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül,
Anthony Braxton,
Neu!,
Grey Daturas,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fatback Band,
The Evens,
Yaz,
The Angels of Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ice-T,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Remains,
Q65,
Donald Byrd,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Music Machine,
Q and Not U,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.