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 Lesotho and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Delon & Dalcan to the grime 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Modern Lovers,
Severed Heads,
The Slackers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Colin Newman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quando Quango,
Ronnie Foster,
the Association,
Sam Rivers,
Brick,
Barry Ungar,
Bauhaus,
Visage,
Moebius,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Anakelly,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neu!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rakim,
The Slits,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Walker Brothers,
The Leaves,
the Fania All-Stars,
Depeche Mode,
The Misunderstood,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crooked Eye,
The Gladiators,
Mission of Burma,
Boz Scaggs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Country Teasers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
T. Rex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord,
Rapeman,
Ohio Players,
Warsaw,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
Circle Jerks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New York Dolls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Groovy Waters,
The Moleskins,
Crash Course in Science,
Babytalk,
Ponytail,
John Foxx,
Vainqueur,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.