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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Newcleus,
Popol Vuh,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Hill,
Spandau Ballet,
The Durutti Column,
Jeff Lynne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sugar Minott,
The Trojans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Au Pairs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Byrd,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soulsonic Force,
The Barracudas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Big Daddy Kane,
Silicon Teens,
Young Marble Giants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pylon,
Connie Case,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Martian,
The Real Kids,
Scientists,
Vladislav Delay,
Siglo XX,
Television,
Quando Quango,
Ituana,
Swell Maps,
Cameo,
Drexciya,
Gang of Four,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ohio Players,
Kas Product,
Grauzone,
Soft Cell,
Dave Gahan,
The Gladiators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Maurizio,
Mantronix,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eve St. Jones,
Mo-Dettes,
John Coltrane,
The Mummies,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.