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 Algeria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Organ to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Davy DMX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
Curtis Mayfield,
Vladislav Delay,
T. Rex,
Darondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flipper,
ABC,
Kurtis Blow,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bang On A Can,
Sandy B,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mummies,
Gang Green,
Can,
Goldenarms,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
a-ha,
Hashim,
Joey Negro,
Laurel Aitken,
The American Breed,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tim Buckley,
Scientists,
Yellowson,
Television Personalities,
Derrick May,
The Zeros,
The Doors,
The Smoke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crooked Eye,
Freddie Wadling,
Audionom,
Talk Talk,
MC5,
Sugar Minott,
Deadbeat,
Eric Dolphy,
Rites of Spring,
Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Guru Guru,
Sister Nancy,
Crash Course in Science,
John Holt,
CMW,
Procol Harum,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brand Nubian,
Drive Like Jehu,
Janne Schatter,
Rapeman,
Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal.
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.