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 Montenegro and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Robert Palmer 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 Gabor Szabo 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Cluster,
Howard Jones,
Dead Boys,
Lou Christie,
B.T. Express,
The Fugs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tim Buckley,
Fat Boys,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Cale,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Supertramp,
Livin' Joy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minor Threat,
The Grass Roots,
Liliput,
Moby Grape,
Aswad,
Bootsy Collins,
The Offenders,
Buzzcocks,
Angry Samoans,
Infiniti,
Kurtis Blow,
Lindisfarne,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bizarre Inc.,
Audionom,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Raincoats,
Don Cherry,
Fear,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rufus Thomas,
Unrelated Segments,
Deepchord,
cv313,
Flash Fearless,
The Moody Blues,
Letta Mbulu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Piero Umiliani,
Joy Division,
The Cowsills,
Robert Görl,
Ornette Coleman,
Public Enemy,
The Busters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.