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 Jamaica and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 Mojo Men to the rap 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 The Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
B.T. Express,
Buzzcocks,
Anthony Braxton,
Average White Band,
Pierre Henry,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacques Brel,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
Reuben Wilson,
Bauhaus,
Blancmange,
Cybotron,
Roxy Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott Heron,
DNA,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boredoms,
Deadbeat,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gang Starr,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Electric Prunes,
Altered Images,
Terry Callier,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Country Teasers,
a-ha,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Derrick Morgan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Al Stewart,
The Happenings,
Lalann,
Eve St. Jones,
Ice-T,
Ludus,
Maurizio,
Magma,
Quantec,
F. McDonald,
Gregory Isaacs,
MC5,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Amazonics,
Theoretical Girls,
Liliput,
Sex Pistols,
Procol Harum,
Con Funk Shun,
Aural Exciters,
Guru Guru,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.