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 South Sudan and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Goldenarms,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Letta Mbulu,
Basic Channel,
The Busters,
Unrelated Segments,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Erasure,
Grey Daturas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pylon,
Sun City Girls,
Lungfish,
Sugar Minott,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Buckinghams,
Lee Hazlewood,
Minny Pops,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eurythmics,
Pole,
Sun Ra,
The Black Dice,
New York Dolls,
The Invisible,
June Days,
Au Pairs,
Man Parrish,
Minutemen,
Flipper,
Procol Harum,
X-Ray Spex,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marmalade,
A Certain Ratio,
Ronan,
Dead Boys,
ABC,
Godley & Creme,
Al Stewart,
Tim Buckley,
The Modern Lovers,
the Germs,
Pagans,
Altered Images,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Divine Comedy,
Davy DMX,
The Misunderstood,
The Saints,
Quadrant,
Lindisfarne,
The Martian,
Visage,
Ultra Naté,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.