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 Maldives and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar 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 Marcia Griffiths to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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 Moody Blues,
The Skatalites,
China Crisis,
Buzzcocks,
Joyce Sims,
X-102,
Motorama,
Spoonie Gee,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Al Stewart,
Tubeway Army,
The Modern Lovers,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mummies,
Model 500,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Hill,
Girls At Our Best!,
Livin' Joy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eddi Front,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fall,
Yellowson,
The Gories,
One Last Wish,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
48th St. Collective,
R.M.O.,
F. McDonald,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
Funkadelic,
Gong,
Nation of Ulysses,
Carl Craig,
The Dirtbombs,
Malaria!,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Kinks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Barbara Tucker,
Neu!,
Minutemen,
Prince Buster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Quando Quango,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Cure,
Mr. Review,
DJ Style,
The Durutti Column,
The Techniques,
Masters at Work,
Fugazi,
Massinfluence,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.