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 Marshall Islands and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Copenhagen.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Pretty Things,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ornette Coleman,
H. Thieme,
The Durutti Column,
Vladislav Delay,
Yazoo,
DNA,
Arcadia,
Theoretical Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Parry Music,
June of 44,
Nas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Stereo Dub,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Byrd,
FM Einheit,
Laurel Aitken,
Rosa Yemen,
Janne Schatter,
Fear,
The Searchers,
Brothers Johnson,
Television,
Derrick May,
Masters at Work,
Sexual Harrassment,
Procol Harum,
The Young Rascals,
Rakim,
Byron Stingily,
the Normal,
The United States of America,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cybotron,
Public Image Ltd.,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neil Young,
Kas Product,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Das Ding,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-102,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
The Gun Club,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tears for Fears,
The Evens,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.