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 India and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 the Fania All-Stars to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Michelle Simonal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Audionom,
Ponytail,
Matthew Halsall,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deakin,
Oblivians,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Zero Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aswad,
The Moleskins,
Popol Vuh,
Saccharine Trust,
the Human League,
Jeff Lynne,
Dennis Brown,
Amon Düül II,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Lydon,
Brand Nubian,
The Walker Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Crooked Eye,
The Gories,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kas Product,
Kaleidoscope,
Donny Hathaway,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Darondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Graham Central Station,
The Gap Band,
Alice Coltrane,
The Count Five,
Minnie Riperton,
Guru Guru,
Gang Starr,
Joey Negro,
Malaria!,
Man Parrish,
Ken Boothe,
Cecil Taylor,
Scratch Acid,
Excepter,
Soul Sonic Force,
Boz Scaggs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Infiniti,
the Normal,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nils Olav,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.