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 Ireland and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the crunk 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Red Krayola,
New Order,
cv313,
Stetsasonic,
Sparks,
Barbara Tucker,
The Trojans,
R.M.O.,
Ornette Coleman,
Hashim,
The Last Poets,
Deepchord,
Sixth Finger,
Mantronix,
Steve Hackett,
Agitation Free,
Sugar Minott,
Bronski Beat,
The Golliwogs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Isaac Hayes,
Scan 7,
Guru Guru,
Max Romeo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Animal Collective,
Index,
Pulsallama,
The Searchers,
Tom Boy,
Zero Boys,
The Pop Group,
Ronan,
The Index,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Victims,
The Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
Wolf Eyes,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Audionom,
Mo-Dettes,
The Music Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
DNA,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Fat Boys,
Black Sheep,
Robert Wyatt,
Cecil Taylor,
Quantec,
Terry Callier,
Flash Fearless,
Ralphi Rosario,
Heaven 17,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.