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 South Africa and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Television to the jazz 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Procol Harum,
Lou Christie,
The Zeros,
London Community Gospel Choir,
JFA,
Kas Product,
Pylon,
Los Fastidios,
Roger Hodgson,
Joe Smooth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
Lightning Bolt,
Deakin,
Pagans,
Maurizio,
Gang Green,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roxette,
Sonny Sharrock,
F. McDonald,
Tres Demented,
48th St. Collective,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Shadows of Knight,
Amon Düül,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rites of Spring,
The Misunderstood,
Radiopuhelimet,
Suicide,
The Fire Engines,
Television,
Essential Logic,
Josef K,
Absolute Body Control,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nation of Ulysses,
Juan Atkins,
Motorama,
Q and Not U,
Yusef Lateef,
Chris & Cosey,
The Red Krayola,
Tubeway Army,
Panda Bear,
Ken Boothe,
U.S. Maple,
Dennis Brown,
Grey Daturas,
Brothers Johnson,
Infiniti,
Jesper Dahlback,
Terry Callier,
Desert Stars,
Slick Rick,
New York Dolls,
The Gladiators,
Ten City,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.