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 Cape Verde and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Robert Palmer 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 The Walker Brothers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Man Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Yazoo,
Grey Daturas,
The New Christs,
Banda Bassotti,
New York Dolls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Busters,
the Association,
The Young Rascals,
Harry Pussy,
Massinfluence,
Cecil Taylor,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deepchord,
Bobby Byrd,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
kango's stein massive,
Youth Brigade,
Das Ding,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joy Division,
Leonard Cohen,
Donald Byrd,
The Slits,
DJ Sneak,
U.S. Maple,
Urselle,
cv313,
Duran Duran,
48th St. Collective,
Charles Mingus,
Alphaville,
Monks,
Reagan Youth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Dolphy,
Chris & Cosey,
The Moleskins,
Susan Cadogan,
Bush Tetras,
Scott Walker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Velvet Underground,
Marine Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
CMW,
Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
Surgeon,
Juan Atkins,
Soul II Soul,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
Black Flag,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.