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 East Timor and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 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 Sixth Finger to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Sällskapet,
The Skatalites,
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru,
R.M.O.,
Barclay James Harvest,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lucky Dragons,
the Slits,
Faraquet,
Josef K,
Rufus Thomas,
Boz Scaggs,
Japan,
The Martian,
Cal Tjader,
Henry Cow,
Main Source,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grauzone,
Amon Düül,
Intrusion,
Q and Not U,
The American Breed,
Amazonics,
Excepter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Cecil Taylor,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joey Negro,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The New Christs,
Sam Rivers,
EPMD,
Fatback Band,
The Wake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Procol Harum,
Siglo XX,
Andrew Hill,
Marmalade,
Boredoms,
The Smoke,
Sight & Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Walker Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Angry Samoans,
Terry Callier,
Dark Day,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joyce Sims,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bad Manners,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.