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 Tuvalu and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rhythm & Sound 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joey Negro,
Joe Finger,
Stetsasonic,
Rosa Yemen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Velvet Underground,
Sixth Finger,
Technova,
Duran Duran,
The Electric Prunes,
Television,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soulsonic Force,
Visage,
Freddie Wadling,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Organ,
Grey Daturas,
The Gladiators,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crooked Eye,
Sam Rivers,
Neu!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lungfish,
Negative Approach,
MDC,
Dawn Penn,
Erasure,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ohio Players,
The Cramps,
AZ,
Drexciya,
Cheater Slicks,
Magma,
The Red Krayola,
Bob Dylan,
Donald Byrd,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Misunderstood,
Symarip,
Niagra,
The Count Five,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Moleskins,
Ken Boothe,
Mark Hollis,
Icehouse,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Josef K,
The Cowsills,
Thee Headcoats,
Audionom,
Maurizio,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.