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 San Marino and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Flipper to the grunge 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thompson Twins,
Black Flag,
Joey Negro,
The Knickerbockers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sixth Finger,
Donald Byrd,
The Birthday Party,
Country Teasers,
The Divine Comedy,
Yusef Lateef,
The Tremeloes,
Nas,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Sherman,
Eli Mardock,
Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
Rekid,
The Grass Roots,
Andrew Hill,
Rhythm & Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jesper Dahlback,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Donny Hathaway,
June Days,
Grey Daturas,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sister Nancy,
Camberwell Now,
Pylon,
Lalann,
The Fire Engines,
Second Layer,
Eric B and Rakim,
Supertramp,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Neon Judgement,
Oneida,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mad Mike,
Quadrant,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
kango's stein massive,
Spandau Ballet,
John Coltrane,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.