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 Mauritius and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Radio Birdman to the grime 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
World's Most,
The United States of America,
Altered Images,
Slave,
Sun Ra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Letta Mbulu,
Susan Cadogan,
Newcleus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
La Düsseldorf,
Basic Channel,
The Mojo Men,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ituana,
Chris & Cosey,
Anthony Braxton,
the Human League,
Q65,
Niagra,
Cymande,
Stereo Dub,
Simply Red,
The Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Bananas,
John Lydon,
The Young Rascals,
Zapp,
Bush Tetras,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Wake,
Minny Pops,
Sandy B,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wings,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Neil Young,
Saccharine Trust,
Ten City,
Ludus,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
David Axelrod,
Agent Orange,
Johnny Clarke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Moleskins,
Roy Ayers,
Jacob Miller,
Pulsallama,
Funky Four + One,
Grandmaster Flash,
Glenn Branca,
Whodini,
Cybotron,
The Golliwogs,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.