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 Yemen and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket 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?
Buzzcocks,
Stereo Dub,
John Cale,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Groovy Waters,
D'Angelo,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
Fugazi,
Wolf Eyes,
Newcleus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Donny Hathaway,
The Slackers,
The Martian,
Rhythm & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Human League,
Theoretical Girls,
Urselle,
The Busters,
Drexciya,
Stetsasonic,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare,
This Heat,
Nas,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tom Boy,
Popol Vuh,
Fela Kuti,
World's Most,
Pulsallama,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobby Sherman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Darondo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Interpol,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Byrd,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Massinfluence,
Faraquet,
Byron Stingily,
Erasure,
Sällskapet,
Pantytec,
Visage,
Sixth Finger,
The United States of America,
Ossler,
China Crisis,
Tommy Roe,
Maleditus Sound,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.