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 London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bad Manners to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Moby Grape,
Max Romeo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Dead C,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Womack,
Soul Sonic Force,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Black Dice,
Michelle Simonal,
Pharoah Sanders,
New Age Steppers,
Spoonie Gee,
Goldenarms,
Delta 5,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roxy Music,
UT,
Minny Pops,
Livin' Joy,
Rapeman,
Dave Gahan,
Oneida,
Wings,
Letta Mbulu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Theoretical Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Little Man,
The Star Department,
The Count Five,
Khruangbin,
Tomorrow,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Derrick May,
Deepchord,
John Lydon,
Dead Boys,
Black Moon,
David Axelrod,
Warren Ellis,
The Modern Lovers,
Lungfish,
Thee Headcoats,
Q and Not U,
Byron Stingily,
The Neon Judgement,
ABC,
Anthony Braxton,
Sugar Minott,
Todd Terry,
The Slits,
Marmalade,
T. Rex,
Soul II Soul,
Moebius,
Procol Harum,
Unwound,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.