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 Cape Verde and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the disco 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
The Raincoats,
Easy Going,
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Brick,
Howard Jones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dark Day,
Throbbing Gristle,
10cc,
The Moody Blues,
Pantaleimon,
Hardrive,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Smoke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Archie Shepp,
Smog,
Harpers Bizarre,
Section 25,
Rufus Thomas,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
The Barracudas,
Lindisfarne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Morten Harket,
John Holt,
The Beau Brummels,
Duran Duran,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeff Lynne,
The Monochrome Set,
The Wake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lower 48,
Swell Maps,
Delon & Dalcan,
Make Up,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
Althea and Donna,
Eurythmics,
The Divine Comedy,
Interpol,
David Axelrod,
Ohio Players,
Ken Boothe,
Joyce Sims,
A Certain Ratio,
Anakelly,
the Slits,
ABC,
The Birthday Party,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.