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 Ghana and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron 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 Sister Nancy to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deepchord,
Theoretical Girls,
Funkadelic,
Man Parrish,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Saints,
Goldenarms,
The Misunderstood,
Saccharine Trust,
The Birthday Party,
Fugazi,
Terry Callier,
Angry Samoans,
MDC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soft Cell,
Joyce Sims,
The Real Kids,
New Order,
Morten Harket,
Isaac Hayes,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Crime,
Rakim,
Black Moon,
DJ Sneak,
Niagra,
The Knickerbockers,
Fluxion,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bill Near,
Dead Boys,
Ronan,
Maurizio,
Organ,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Surgeon,
The Names,
Talk Talk,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
World's Most,
The Mojo Men,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skarface,
Aswad,
E-Dancer,
Zapp,
Robert Hood,
Danielle Patucci,
Royal Trux,
Flamin' Groovies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.