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 Botswana and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba 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 Kerrie Biddell to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
The Searchers,
Byron Stingily,
New Order,
Half Japanese,
Eric Dolphy,
John Lydon,
Bush Tetras,
Fluxion,
Pulsallama,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soulsonic Force,
Cameo,
10cc,
The Divine Comedy,
Rod Modell,
The Neon Judgement,
Flipper,
Wally Richardson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
Ultra Naté,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonic Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
June of 44,
Newcleus,
Mandrill,
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Siglo XX,
Gerry Rafferty,
Japan,
Severed Heads,
Masters at Work,
Parry Music,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Bananas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cymande,
Susan Cadogan,
Maurizio,
Guru Guru,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Standells,
Gabor Szabo,
The Index,
John Coltrane,
Ice-T,
Symarip,
The J.B.'s,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Red Krayola,
The Grass Roots,
Bootsy Collins,
the Association,
Bill Wells,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.