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 Seychelles and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mexico City.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fuzztones to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultravox,
Blossom Toes,
Ludus,
Interpol,
Arcadia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Flipper,
Icehouse,
Television,
The Golliwogs,
AZ,
Von Mondo,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers,
Pierre Henry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Black Moon,
cv313,
Mr. Review,
Scientists,
Cameo,
The Velvet Underground,
Gang of Four,
Jerry's Kids,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Masters at Work,
Fat Boys,
The Count Five,
Robert Hood,
Mission of Burma,
Q and Not U,
Lalann,
Yazoo,
Reagan Youth,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rapeman,
Brothers Johnson,
Gong,
The Saints,
Shuggie Otis,
Index,
8 Eyed Spy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Negative Approach,
Radiohead,
Terry Callier,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Wolf Eyes,
Connie Case,
the Bar-Kays,
The Divine Comedy,
Sparks,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman,
Yusef Lateef,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.