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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Intrusion to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
Terry Callier,
Godley & Creme,
Whodini,
The Blues Magoos,
Glambeats Corp.,
Frankie Knuckles,
X-Ray Spex,
World's Most,
June of 44,
Malaria!,
Colin Newman,
Tommy Roe,
Johnny Clarke,
Babytalk,
kango's stein massive,
H. Thieme,
Simply Red,
Jeff Lynne,
Tim Buckley,
June Days,
The J.B.'s,
Magazine,
Cybotron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Shoche,
Cymande,
Skaos,
Avey Tare,
Andrew Hill,
Trumans Water,
Eve St. Jones,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Bill Near,
Mr. Review,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Letta Mbulu,
Fugazi,
Roy Ayers,
Gang Starr,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smoke,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tubeway Army,
Sonic Youth,
MC5,
Skriet,
Black Pus,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rotary Connection,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Freddie Wadling,
Ronan,
Con Funk Shun,
Yazoo,
Shuggie Otis,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.