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 Maldives and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Joy Division to the crunk 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New Order,
Darondo,
Suicide,
Kerrie Biddell,
Masters at Work,
Whodini,
Pylon,
Cal Tjader,
Marcia Griffiths,
Livin' Joy,
Moebius,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Smiths,
Neu!,
Index,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Walker Brothers,
Swans,
Amazonics,
Scion,
The Moleskins,
Marc Almond,
The Gladiators,
The Motions,
Johnny Clarke,
Mandrill,
Simply Red,
ABBA,
Kenny Larkin,
New Age Steppers,
Mars,
Adolescents,
Saccharine Trust,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Aloha Tigers,
The Grass Roots,
Sight & Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
These Immortal Souls,
Peter & Gordon,
Ken Boothe,
Vainqueur,
Sixth Finger,
Letta Mbulu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
The Mojo Men,
Susan Cadogan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rapeman,
Steve Hackett,
The Buckinghams,
Fatback Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Black Dice,
The Alarm Clocks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Names,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.