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 Kazakhstan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pharoah Sanders to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Freddie Wadling,
Slave,
Procol Harum,
Livin' Joy,
The Monochrome Set,
Dennis Brown,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
Schoolly D,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minutemen,
Charles Mingus,
Public Enemy,
Josef K,
Au Pairs,
Cheater Slicks,
The Birthday Party,
Eve St. Jones,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Selecter,
Swell Maps,
Kaleidoscope,
Blossom Toes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Donny Hathaway,
the Association,
Adolescents,
Terry Callier,
Gong,
Popol Vuh,
The United States of America,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
JFA,
Davy DMX,
Marvin Gaye,
Wolf Eyes,
Sister Nancy,
Camouflage,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pere Ubu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joe Finger,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Supertramp,
Dawn Penn,
Colin Newman,
Quando Quango,
Suburban Knight,
Brick,
Erasure,
Ronan,
Funky Four + One,
Organ,
DJ Style,
The Offenders,
Scientists,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.