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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kerri Chandler to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brass Construction,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cheater Slicks,
Moby Grape,
David Bowie,
Jawbox,
10cc,
Nils Olav,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fall,
Barrington Levy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Motions,
Vladislav Delay,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
James White and The Blacks,
Can,
The Trojans,
Circle Jerks,
The Names,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sam Rivers,
Lower 48,
Susan Cadogan,
John Holt,
Pet Shop Boys,
kango's stein massive,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Byrd,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Jacob Miller,
This Heat,
Inner City,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Associates,
Andrew Hill,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
Das Ding,
Tim Buckley,
MC5,
Accadde A,
Harmonia,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kurtis Blow,
Intrusion,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Walker Brothers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.