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 Palau and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Spandau Ballet to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
The Angels of Light,
Andrew Hill,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mad Mike,
Aloha Tigers,
Robert Wyatt,
Kas Product,
Godley & Creme,
Pantytec,
The Saints,
The Misunderstood,
Nick Fraelich,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The J.B.'s,
Wire,
The Grass Roots,
Bill Near,
The Doors,
John Holt,
Josef K,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Idris Muhammad,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gichy Dan,
The Offenders,
Nils Olav,
Roy Ayers,
China Crisis,
Maurizio,
The Beau Brummels,
EPMD,
Bang On A Can,
KRS-One,
Barrington Levy,
The Moody Blues,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joy Division,
Blake Baxter,
Unrelated Segments,
K-Klass,
Suburban Knight,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wolf Eyes,
Alice Coltrane,
Thee Headcoats,
Ronnie Foster,
Arthur Verocai,
Fad Gadget,
Ultra Naté,
The Victims,
The Durutti Column,
Intrusion,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.