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 Monaco and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 Fatback Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Ultra Naté,
The Black Dice,
Magazine,
Joey Negro,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hoover,
Black Flag,
Boz Scaggs,
Electric Prunes,
B.T. Express,
Country Teasers,
Quadrant,
Boredoms,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tim Buckley,
Bad Manners,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Association,
Soul II Soul,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeff Mills,
Mr. Review,
Chris & Cosey,
Rites of Spring,
Ken Boothe,
The Gories,
The Fuzztones,
Underground Resistance,
Drexciya,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül II,
Das Ding,
Echospace,
Nils Olav,
Robert Wyatt,
Chrome,
E-Dancer,
Funkadelic,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dennis Brown,
Camberwell Now,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Saints,
The Mummies,
Kas Product,
The Neon Judgement,
Harmonia,
Funky Four + One,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Q and Not U,
ABBA,
Kenny Larkin,
Loose Ends,
Tears for Fears,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Tomorrow,
Pulsallama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ohio Players,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.