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 Yemen and from Calgary.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 OOIOO to the crunk 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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Stiv Bators,
Pharoah Sanders,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ossler,
Harmonia,
Gong,
Throbbing Gristle,
Maleditus Sound,
New Order,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ituana,
The American Breed,
X-102,
Alice Coltrane,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalann,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Slits,
The Slits,
Magazine,
the Soft Cell,
The Doors,
Mary Jane Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nils Olav,
Talk Talk,
Cluster,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glambeats Corp.,
B.T. Express,
Outsiders,
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
The Index,
K-Klass,
The Beau Brummels,
Amazonics,
Cameo,
Yazoo,
Absolute Body Control,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Barracudas,
The Mummies,
Lou Reed,
Livin' Joy,
Harry Pussy,
Smog,
Jeff Mills,
Sun City Girls,
The Moody Blues,
Joyce Sims,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Robert Wyatt,
Moebius,
The Kinks,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.