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 Syria and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grunge 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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Ohio Players,
These Immortal Souls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wally Richardson,
Brick,
The Young Rascals,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Colin Newman,
Man Parrish,
X-102,
Flash Fearless,
Bill Wells,
The Cramps,
Ken Boothe,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dead Boys,
Absolute Body Control,
10cc,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Suburban Knight,
Qualms,
Charles Mingus,
Bush Tetras,
Sparks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Monks,
The Sound,
The Last Poets,
X-101,
Tommy Roe,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Green,
Stiv Bators,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Glenn Branca,
Susan Cadogan,
48th St. Collective,
The Moleskins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
Amazonics,
Rekid,
Yaz,
Cymande,
The Modern Lovers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Sonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
K-Klass,
Skaos,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moody Blues,
Gang Gang Dance,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
cv313,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.