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 Mexico and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Marshall Jefferson to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faraquet,
R.M.O.,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick May,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fatback Band,
Pierre Henry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Albert Ayler,
Tomorrow,
The Pop Group,
Michelle Simonal,
Unrelated Segments,
Junior Murvin,
Rakim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Man Parrish,
Aloha Tigers,
Pagans,
Chris & Cosey,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Neil Young,
The Last Poets,
Peter & Gordon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scion,
the Germs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Funky Four + One,
Mo-Dettes,
Rosa Yemen,
Boredoms,
Harry Pussy,
Alphaville,
UT,
Joe Finger,
Sex Pistols,
Television,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Metal Thangz,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
Grey Daturas,
Fat Boys,
Robert Görl,
Roxy Music,
The Neon Judgement,
Dawn Penn,
Fear,
Unwound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.