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 Portugal and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lebanon Hanover to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Jerry's Kids,
Urselle,
Bill Near,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
Shoche,
Brick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Leaves,
Bush Tetras,
The Divine Comedy,
Crime,
The Vogues,
Radiohead,
Von Mondo,
Altered Images,
Rites of Spring,
Patti Smith,
Jeff Lynne,
Toni Rubio,
The Golliwogs,
Howard Jones,
Andrew Hill,
Blossom Toes,
The Slackers,
Ituana,
Eli Mardock,
10cc,
The Blackbyrds,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joe Smooth,
Don Cherry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jacques Brel,
Mars,
Matthew Halsall,
Prince Buster,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Porter Ricks,
Nico,
The Doors,
Yellowson,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Byrd,
Depeche Mode,
The Misunderstood,
U.S. Maple,
Qualms,
Fela Kuti,
Cymande,
Panda Bear,
DNA,
Chris & Cosey,
Todd Rundgren,
Can,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.