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 Bulgaria and from New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Crispy Ambulance to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Monks,
U.S. Maple,
Quando Quango,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
The Monochrome Set,
Funkadelic,
Unwound,
Jeff Lynne,
Brass Construction,
Wally Richardson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Interpol,
Groovy Waters,
Silicon Teens,
Robert Görl,
Warsaw,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jeff Mills,
PIL,
The Modern Lovers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Last Poets,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rekid,
Moss Icon,
The Zeros,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Index,
The Red Krayola,
Scan 7,
Johnny Clarke,
The Martian,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Green,
Cecil Taylor,
Con Funk Shun,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ituana,
Stiv Bators,
Mary Jane Girls,
Public Enemy,
Smog,
Section 25,
The Gap Band,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dirtbombs,
D'Angelo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Piero Umiliani,
Dual Sessions,
Essential Logic,
Urselle,
Swell Maps,
Echospace,
The Gladiators,
Alton Ellis,
The Raincoats,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.