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 Cameroon and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Piero Umiliani to the jazz 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Raincoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Monolake,
Morten Harket,
Suicide,
Blancmange,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Evens,
The Busters,
Terry Callier,
Aural Exciters,
Absolute Body Control,
Frankie Knuckles,
Amon Düül II,
The Dirtbombs,
Con Funk Shun,
The Doors,
Moebius,
Arab on Radar,
Heaven 17,
The Knickerbockers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rosa Yemen,
Prince Buster,
The Birthday Party,
Slave,
Joe Finger,
Toni Rubio,
The Fall,
Tears for Fears,
Surgeon,
Steve Hackett,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sound Behaviour,
World's Most,
Visage,
Jacques Brel,
Bauhaus,
kango's stein massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Spandau Ballet,
The Star Department,
Harry Pussy,
KRS-One,
Ice-T,
Excepter,
Patti Smith,
The Monks,
Clear Light,
Tommy Roe,
Das Ding,
Q65,
Fela Kuti,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.