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 Fiji and from Columbus.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the electroclash 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
DJ Sneak,
Mantronix,
Scott Walker,
Cheater Slicks,
Bush Tetras,
Pantytec,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Flag,
UT,
Rapeman,
Minnie Riperton,
Symarip,
Mary Jane Girls,
Swell Maps,
The Fire Engines,
Blancmange,
Minor Threat,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Selecter,
Television,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
DNA,
The Smiths,
John Holt,
The Smoke,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Durutti Column,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Liliput,
The Seeds,
Juan Atkins,
Lucky Dragons,
Archie Shepp,
The United States of America,
Barry Ungar,
Hashim,
Moebius,
The Dead C,
Underground Resistance,
The Gun Club,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Foxx,
Bob Dylan,
The Move,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tears for Fears,
Camouflage,
Todd Rundgren,
Audionom,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Andrew Hill,
Leonard Cohen,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-101,
Idris Muhammad,
Eddi Front,
Q65,
the Human League,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.