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 Mexico and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Iggy Pop,
Flipper,
Funkadelic,
DJ Sneak,
Tom Boy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
A Certain Ratio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barry Ungar,
Unrelated Segments,
Royal Trux,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shuggie Otis,
Al Stewart,
Excepter,
DNA,
Symarip,
Slave,
UT,
Dual Sessions,
Rosa Yemen,
China Crisis,
Magma,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Public Enemy,
The Motions,
Aloha Tigers,
Deakin,
The Knickerbockers,
Glenn Branca,
Rekid,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scan 7,
Dark Day,
Alice Coltrane,
Con Funk Shun,
Organ,
Laurel Aitken,
Grey Daturas,
Albert Ayler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gladiators,
The Fortunes,
Alton Ellis,
Rotary Connection,
Lalo Schifrin,
Steve Hackett,
Roger Hodgson,
The Kinks,
Sex Pistols,
Cluster,
Boz Scaggs,
The Move,
The Fuzztones,
Agitation Free,
Black Flag,
Minor Threat,
Popol Vuh,
David McCallum,
Khruangbin,
Donald Byrd,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.