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 Sri Lanka and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Fear,
Reuben Wilson,
Ronnie Foster,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Chris & Cosey,
Qualms,
Franke,
Outsiders,
The Five Americans,
Kerri Chandler,
Magazine,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masters at Work,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Zeros,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fluxion,
Bootsy Collins,
K-Klass,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
EPMD,
Sällskapet,
T.S.O.L.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yazoo,
New Order,
John Foxx,
Second Layer,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
Clear Light,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Young Rascals,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeff Lynne,
Vainqueur,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Slits,
Roger Hodgson,
Harry Pussy,
The Dead C,
Mad Mike,
Gregory Isaacs,
Charles Mingus,
Hot Snakes,
Marine Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
The Grass Roots,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sister Nancy,
Idris Muhammad,
Brick,
The Searchers,
F. McDonald,
Silicon Teens,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cymande,
Lindisfarne,
Amon Düül II,
Black Flag,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.