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 Hungary and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Velvet Underground to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Tom Boy,
Laurel Aitken,
The Walker Brothers,
Das Ding,
Joyce Sims,
Livin' Joy,
Scan 7,
The Slackers,
The Gories,
Goldenarms,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Qualms,
The Monks,
Johnny Clarke,
The Angels of Light,
The Fuzztones,
Anthony Braxton,
Rufus Thomas,
Hashim,
Ossler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
U.S. Maple,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stereo Dub,
June Days,
Siglo XX,
D'Angelo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Slave,
the Bar-Kays,
Janne Schatter,
KRS-One,
Robert Hood,
Barrington Levy,
Thee Headcoats,
T. Rex,
The Red Krayola,
Simply Red,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Danielle Patucci,
Harmonia,
Terry Callier,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fire Engines,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Con Funk Shun,
Silicon Teens,
The Divine Comedy,
The Blues Magoos,
Crime,
Gang Green,
The Mummies,
The Doors,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Martian,
Pierre Henry,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.