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 Uganda and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cecil Taylor 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Ultra Naté,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eve St. Jones,
Joy Division,
Blossom Toes,
Derrick Morgan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Siglo XX,
Blake Baxter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Arcadia,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dennis Brown,
Aural Exciters,
AZ,
Lightning Bolt,
Khruangbin,
Amon Düül II,
L. Decosne,
Donald Byrd,
Anakelly,
Black Pus,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Intrusion,
Sight & Sound,
Trumans Water,
Dark Day,
Jawbox,
The Smoke,
Erasure,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lou Reed,
48th St. Collective,
Michelle Simonal,
Adolescents,
Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Livin' Joy,
Magma,
The Star Department,
Cal Tjader,
Radiohead,
Mr. Review,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fad Gadget,
Lalann,
The Move,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics,
Heaven 17,
Fatback Band,
U.S. Maple,
Inner City,
Fear,
The Selecter,
Skarface,
Carl Craig,
Wings,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.