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 Maldives and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin 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 Rites of Spring to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scrapy,
Bronski Beat,
Quantec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Malaria!,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fluxion,
Popol Vuh,
The Angels of Light,
Rekid,
Ronan,
Alice Coltrane,
Spandau Ballet,
Ohio Players,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Das Ding,
Harpers Bizarre,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Can,
Scan 7,
Jeff Mills,
Marvin Gaye,
Letta Mbulu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
Black Pus,
Jawbox,
The Index,
Hardrive,
The Kinks,
Toni Rubio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Count Five,
Peter and Kerry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
B.T. Express,
The Techniques,
Buzzcocks,
Television Personalities,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Al Stewart,
Pere Ubu,
The Move,
Siglo XX,
a-ha,
Juan Atkins,
DJ Style,
John Cale,
Brand Nubian,
Stiv Bators,
Lou Christie,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dawn Penn,
10cc,
Vainqueur,
Scott Walker,
Clear Light,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.