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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacques Brel to the crunk 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
John Foxx,
Maurizio,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faraquet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Television,
The Fortunes,
Lakeside,
The Standells,
The Fall,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crooked Eye,
Nick Fraelich,
Ken Boothe,
Moby Grape,
Wings,
Eli Mardock,
Shoche,
Pantytec,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Radiohead,
Ludus,
Anthony Braxton,
Harmonia,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nico,
Deepchord,
The Raincoats,
Cymande,
The Count Five,
Supertramp,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric Copeland,
Newcleus,
Hashim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cal Tjader,
Mark Hollis,
The Index,
the Human League,
Chris & Cosey,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Masters at Work,
June Days,
Black Moon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Altered Images,
Neil Young,
The Evens,
Index,
Wire,
Radio Birdman,
The Misunderstood,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Gories,
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.