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 Morocco and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Joey Negro,
Infiniti,
Carl Craig,
Moss Icon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bill Near,
Television,
The Fire Engines,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monks,
The Fall,
Howard Jones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Peter & Gordon,
Suburban Knight,
Lou Christie,
Duran Duran,
Pantytec,
The Martian,
Half Japanese,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nation of Ulysses,
Junior Murvin,
The Smoke,
Barclay James Harvest,
Toni Rubio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boz Scaggs,
Stiv Bators,
R.M.O.,
Inner City,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terry Callier,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minor Threat,
Buzzcocks,
Derrick Morgan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grandmaster Flash,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Public Enemy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Young Marble Giants,
Glenn Branca,
Marine Girls,
New York Dolls,
EPMD,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magma,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Piero Umiliani,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Byron Stingily,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.