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 Libya and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sugar Minott to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Isaac Hayes,
Essential Logic,
Fear,
Lou Christie,
Bob Dylan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Can,
Iggy Pop,
Subhumans,
Urselle,
Andrew Hill,
MDC,
Sound Behaviour,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
X-102,
Bang On A Can,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blancmange,
Hardrive,
Drexciya,
Groovy Waters,
Darondo,
Joe Finger,
Simply Red,
Pharoah Sanders,
Skriet,
the Bar-Kays,
OOIOO,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bad Manners,
Mantronix,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roger Hodgson,
The Blackbyrds,
Bush Tetras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultra Naté,
The Last Poets,
Organ,
The Gun Club,
the Association,
Agitation Free,
Lakeside,
Pole,
Pylon,
Niagra,
Josef K,
Robert Hood,
Kerri Chandler,
The Raincoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Germs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lalann,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Rites of Spring,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.