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 Dominican Republic and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Mandrill,
Popol Vuh,
Erasure,
Guru Guru,
Erykah Badu,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gladiators,
Ken Boothe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Technova,
The Smoke,
Oblivians,
Reagan Youth,
Steve Hackett,
Nils Olav,
Sonic Youth,
Flash Fearless,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Country Teasers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cluster,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobby Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Simply Red,
Absolute Body Control,
Sex Pistols,
Wire,
Jeff Lynne,
Fear,
The Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chris Corsano,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Görl,
Wasted Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Index,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Isaac Hayes,
Eli Mardock,
Pagans,
The Litter,
Pantaleimon,
Y Pants,
Crooked Eye,
Lalann,
Tropical Tobacco,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Piero Umiliani,
Barbara Tucker,
Ronnie Foster,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.