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 Korea North and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Divine Comedy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Magma,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Music Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Duran Duran,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Junior Murvin,
Eric Dolphy,
Sister Nancy,
Bob Dylan,
The Last Poets,
Chrome,
Crime,
John Coltrane,
Iggy Pop,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kas Product,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fat Boys,
John Holt,
Funkadelic,
Ossler,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Swans,
The Real Kids,
The Stooges,
Bobby Byrd,
Stetsasonic,
The Pop Group,
Procol Harum,
Slick Rick,
Jacob Miller,
The Gories,
Shuggie Otis,
Blake Baxter,
Siglo XX,
Fear,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Audionom,
Avey Tare,
Black Moon,
The Buckinghams,
The Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pantaleimon,
Matthew Halsall,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tim Buckley,
Soul II Soul,
Country Teasers,
Jandek,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.