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 Brunei and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Cymande to the techno 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Thompson Twins,
Marc Almond,
Nico,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lebanon Hanover,
Prince Buster,
Inner City,
R.M.O.,
Eli Mardock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joe Finger,
The Cowsills,
Rekid,
Cluster,
Darondo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sun City Girls,
E-Dancer,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bang On A Can,
The United States of America,
Metal Thangz,
Pierre Henry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Negative Approach,
Symarip,
The Neon Judgement,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Victims,
Aaron Thompson,
Junior Murvin,
Deepchord,
Thee Headcoats,
Sam Rivers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Anthony Braxton,
Shoche,
Zero Boys,
Neu!,
Banda Bassotti,
Slave,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wasted Youth,
A Certain Ratio,
Chris & Cosey,
Matthew Halsall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Slits,
the Swans,
Camouflage,
The Black Dice,
Bauhaus,
B.T. Express,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scratch Acid,
Youth Brigade,
The Smoke,
Newcleus,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.