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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator 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 linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fugazi,
The Busters,
Arthur Verocai,
June Days,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
Harpers Bizarre,
Magazine,
Neil Young,
Circle Jerks,
Carl Craig,
Spoonie Gee,
Khruangbin,
Porter Ricks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marc Almond,
Nils Olav,
The Neon Judgement,
Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Animal Collective,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Amazonics,
Drexciya,
Stockholm Monsters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sight & Sound,
Rapeman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wire,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sex Pistols,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-101,
Cameo,
Joey Negro,
Livin' Joy,
DNA,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Misunderstood,
The Invisible,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Dave Gahan,
James White and The Blacks,
Ornette Coleman,
MC5,
Scrapy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Donny Hathaway,
Hardrive,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Man Parrish,
Reuben Wilson,
LL Cool J,
Infiniti,
Gang Starr,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.