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 Angola and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Mars,
the Association,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Icehouse,
Minnie Riperton,
Excepter,
One Last Wish,
Visage,
Deadbeat,
cv313,
Procol Harum,
Chris & Cosey,
Infiniti,
Siglo XX,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rhythm & Sound,
June of 44,
Liliput,
Darondo,
Zapp,
The Sound,
Kayak,
The Monochrome Set,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ken Boothe,
Los Fastidios,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Charles Mingus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobbi Humphrey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dead Boys,
Absolute Body Control,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q and Not U,
D'Angelo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Skarface,
X-101,
Swell Maps,
Tres Demented,
Hoover,
Nation of Ulysses,
Robert Görl,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultravox,
Subhumans,
Pulsallama,
Grauzone,
Sandy B,
T. Rex,
The Real Kids,
Brand Nubian,
The Tremeloes,
The Martian,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lightning Bolt,
Malaria!,
Sex Pistols,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.