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 Benin and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the jazz 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
the Germs,
Procol Harum,
Deepchord,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gun Club,
The Grass Roots,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sällskapet,
Oblivians,
Desert Stars,
Robert Hood,
Clear Light,
Pere Ubu,
Porter Ricks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ponytail,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hot Snakes,
Leonard Cohen,
June Days,
Warsaw,
Mo-Dettes,
The Doors,
Minny Pops,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Isaac Hayes,
John Coltrane,
Nils Olav,
Black Flag,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Blackbyrds,
Ronan,
China Crisis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Japan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Girls At Our Best!,
Trumans Water,
Wasted Youth,
The Last Poets,
Spoonie Gee,
Joy Division,
Reagan Youth,
Eric Copeland,
The Slackers,
Roxette,
Scratch Acid,
Skaos,
Aswad,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Christie,
Spandau Ballet,
Easy Going,
Bobby Sherman,
Siglo XX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.