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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 Tomorrow to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Blackbyrds,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
The Residents,
Trumans Water,
Shoche,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Stereo Dub,
Echospace,
Kurtis Blow,
Slave,
Black Flag,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Connie Case,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eurythmics,
Oblivians,
Archie Shepp,
Electric Prunes,
Gang Green,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hot Snakes,
AZ,
Sexual Harrassment,
Albert Ayler,
The Victims,
Quadrant,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
X-101,
Todd Terry,
the Fania All-Stars,
David McCallum,
Essential Logic,
Wolf Eyes,
Ituana,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Porter Ricks,
Pet Shop Boys,
T. Rex,
Massinfluence,
The Kinks,
Godley & Creme,
Siglo XX,
The Fugs,
Arcadia,
Bill Wells,
Donny Hathaway,
Hasil Adkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Clear Light,
Toni Rubio,
Deepchord,
Anthony Braxton,
Cymande,
Fat Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.