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 Malaysia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric B and Rakim to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Joey Negro,
Anakelly,
Letta Mbulu,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fela Kuti,
Visage,
Slave,
Newcleus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Groovy Waters,
JFA,
Y Pants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Barracudas,
Pantytec,
Terry Callier,
Tom Boy,
Graham Central Station,
Nick Fraelich,
Connie Case,
Marine Girls,
The J.B.'s,
The Knickerbockers,
Jeff Mills,
Barrington Levy,
Blancmange,
Organ,
Cluster,
Magazine,
Suicide,
Amazonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Velvet Underground,
Ronan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Vogues,
Piero Umiliani,
Pylon,
Gong,
Boogie Down Productions,
Alice Coltrane,
the Slits,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eve St. Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Sonics,
Scan 7,
Ten City,
The Music Machine,
Ultravox,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Skatalites,
Henry Cow,
The Gories,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roger Hodgson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.