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 Fiji and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Eric Copeland to the funk 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The American Breed,
Joyce Sims,
Bill Wells,
Quando Quango,
Radio Birdman,
Matthew Bourne,
Mr. Review,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Reagan Youth,
Nas,
Gang Green,
Cymande,
UT,
Lucky Dragons,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yusef Lateef,
Marine Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Symarip,
Deepchord,
JFA,
ABC,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Remains,
Heaven 17,
Unwound,
Grey Daturas,
Pole,
Banda Bassotti,
Faust,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Swans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Brand Nubian,
Electric Prunes,
10cc,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Half Japanese,
Joe Smooth,
Sister Nancy,
Youth Brigade,
Moebius,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rotary Connection,
X-101,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Pretty Things,
Rod Modell,
Anthony Braxton,
Reuben Wilson,
Henry Cow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Michelle Simonal,
Basic Channel,
Marc Almond,
Depeche Mode,
Moby Grape,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.