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 Belarus and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
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 theremin 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 10cc to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry's Kids,
Electric Prunes,
the Human League,
Susan Cadogan,
Mantronix,
The Angels of Light,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barrington Levy,
Harry Pussy,
Blossom Toes,
Warren Ellis,
Davy DMX,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sexual Harrassment,
Letta Mbulu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tubeway Army,
Sixth Finger,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultravox,
the Association,
Hoover,
Can,
Barbara Tucker,
Piero Umiliani,
Moby Grape,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Gang Dance,
Josef K,
B.T. Express,
Monks,
John Lydon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
H. Thieme,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Bananas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Christie,
Pantytec,
The Count Five,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marmalade,
Mars,
R.M.O.,
Supertramp,
Heaven 17,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Stooges,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ituana,
Carl Craig,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Swell Maps,
Animal Collective,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.