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 Zimbabwe and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
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 spring reverb 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 Eric Dolphy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
These Immortal Souls,
R.M.O.,
Los Fastidios,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DNA,
Sam Rivers,
Aural Exciters,
The Modern Lovers,
D'Angelo,
The Gun Club,
The Real Kids,
Juan Atkins,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Depeche Mode,
Minny Pops,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fat Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Bad Manners,
Soft Machine,
Patti Smith,
The American Breed,
Bootsy Collins,
Q and Not U,
Negative Approach,
UT,
Sight & Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Man Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Roy Ayers,
Nik Kershaw,
Sunsets and Hearts,
X-Ray Spex,
Clear Light,
World's Most,
Lightning Bolt,
Crime,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nas,
Boogie Down Productions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
The Busters,
Gang Green,
Deadbeat,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Byrd,
Hardrive,
The Star Department,
Ultravox,
James White and The Blacks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lower 48,
Fear,
Alison Limerick,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.