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 Uzbekistan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
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 linndrum 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 The Neon Judgement to the grime 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Jawbox,
Panda Bear,
Rod Modell,
The Smiths,
Barbara Tucker,
The Misunderstood,
DNA,
Pulsallama,
Jimmy McGriff,
ABC,
The Sound,
The American Breed,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Agent Orange,
David Bowie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
Joey Negro,
T. Rex,
Patti Smith,
Grandmaster Flash,
David McCallum,
Tom Boy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gastr Del Sol,
Youth Brigade,
Delta 5,
Joe Smooth,
The Cramps,
Altered Images,
Sixth Finger,
The Black Dice,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unwound,
These Immortal Souls,
John Holt,
Symarip,
Scientists,
Ken Boothe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monochrome Set,
Sandy B,
Outsiders,
Bob Dylan,
Agitation Free,
Scan 7,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marcia Griffiths,
Country Teasers,
Gang Starr,
OOIOO,
the Slits,
Avey Tare,
Hashim,
Barrington Levy,
Intrusion,
Skriet,
Soul II Soul,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.