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 Paraguay and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the rap 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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mission of Burma,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rites of Spring,
Rapeman,
Mandrill,
The Last Poets,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Babytalk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Hill,
The New Christs,
Interpol,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gories,
Henry Cow,
Connie Case,
James White and The Blacks,
Wally Richardson,
The Victims,
The Fortunes,
Swell Maps,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Charles Mingus,
Juan Atkins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Buckinghams,
The United States of America,
Aaron Thompson,
Funkadelic,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Remains,
The Doors,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs,
Vainqueur,
Sex Pistols,
Slave,
Subhumans,
Essential Logic,
Bobby Sherman,
Lucky Dragons,
Skaos,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ken Boothe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DJ Sneak,
DNA,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grauzone,
Kas Product,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.