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 Cairo.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
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 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 Nile Rodgers 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 U.S. Maple to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tim Buckley,
Interpol,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalann,
Kerrie Biddell,
D'Angelo,
Flipper,
Piero Umiliani,
Cymande,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rekid,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yellowson,
Crime,
Rites of Spring,
A Certain Ratio,
One Last Wish,
Blossom Toes,
The Martian,
Dennis Brown,
The Offenders,
The Modern Lovers,
Fear,
The New Christs,
The Evens,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stereo Dub,
Pussy Galore,
The Associates,
Tears for Fears,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Steve Hackett,
Wasted Youth,
Main Source,
Public Enemy,
Youth Brigade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash,
Maurizio,
X-101,
Intrusion,
Minutemen,
Technova,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Trumans Water,
MC5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Moon,
Aloha Tigers,
The Beau Brummels,
Ronan,
Roxy Music,
Duran Duran,
Avey Tare,
Terry Callier,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Glenn Branca,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.