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 Saudi Arabia and from Mumbai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
The Real Kids,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skaos,
The Saints,
The Offenders,
The Durutti Column,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Connie Case,
Trumans Water,
Bluetip,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Angry Samoans,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Japan,
The Litter,
Scion,
One Last Wish,
AZ,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
PIL,
Accadde A,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Bananas,
Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
D'Angelo,
The Zeros,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television,
R.M.O.,
Ronnie Foster,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Velvet Underground,
The Doors,
Traffic Nightmare,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Green,
Wire,
Crash Course in Science,
the Fania All-Stars,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Ten City,
The Black Dice,
Barry Ungar,
Agent Orange,
New Age Steppers,
Ultravox,
The Modern Lovers,
Wasted Youth,
the Swans,
Camberwell Now,
Tomorrow,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.