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 Uruguay and from Manila.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 X-101 to the crunk 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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Q and Not U,
One Last Wish,
the Bar-Kays,
AZ,
Arthur Verocai,
Rapeman,
Section 25,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mummies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Unwound,
Nick Fraelich,
The Grass Roots,
Rosa Yemen,
Lou Reed,
The Blackbyrds,
The Buckinghams,
F. McDonald,
Carl Craig,
Black Flag,
Country Teasers,
The Gladiators,
Judy Mowatt,
Q65,
Flipper,
Todd Terry,
Crash Course in Science,
Shoche,
Sound Behaviour,
Dead Boys,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brass Construction,
Subhumans,
John Cale,
Scratch Acid,
Alice Coltrane,
Marmalade,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Searchers,
Harry Pussy,
Pussy Galore,
Zapp,
Gerry Rafferty,
Warsaw,
Mars,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Aaron Thompson,
Warren Ellis,
Maurizio,
Inner City,
Derrick Morgan,
Bill Wells,
Al Stewart,
The Slits,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.