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 Romania and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Robert Hood to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Quadrant,
New Order,
Susan Cadogan,
Interpol,
Ossler,
Deepchord,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
Warsaw,
Goldenarms,
Amazonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New York Dolls,
Steve Hackett,
Con Funk Shun,
The Skatalites,
Black Sheep,
Donny Hathaway,
The Grass Roots,
Todd Terry,
Marmalade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eli Mardock,
Kayak,
Delta 5,
Crime,
Banda Bassotti,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Wyatt,
Yaz,
Q65,
cv313,
The Count Five,
Angry Samoans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gichy Dan,
Roy Ayers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Judy Mowatt,
Wings,
Girls At Our Best!,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Pierre Henry,
Franke,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Gong,
Lindisfarne,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Heaven 17,
Sugar Minott,
The Walker Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Spoonie Gee,
Jimmy McGriff,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.