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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes 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 Anakelly to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Marmalade,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare,
Lalo Schifrin,
Franke,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood,
Rotary Connection,
Judy Mowatt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crime,
the Germs,
These Immortal Souls,
The Invisible,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
New Age Steppers,
Henry Cow,
JFA,
FM Einheit,
Radio Birdman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lightning Bolt,
The Five Americans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Unwound,
John Foxx,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Barracudas,
Crooked Eye,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Motions,
Nas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sam Rivers,
E-Dancer,
the Human League,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DJ Style,
Boogie Down Productions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Martian,
Bronski Beat,
Fad Gadget,
Accadde A,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Terry,
Leonard Cohen,
Boz Scaggs,
Maurizio,
Mission of Burma,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cameo,
Fatback Band,
Metal Thangz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.