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 Djibouti and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Saccharine Trust to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Smog,
Pantytec,
the Germs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
ABBA,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Arcadia,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eric Copeland,
Michelle Simonal,
The Standells,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roy Ayers,
Ten City,
Magazine,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ludus,
Eden Ahbez,
One Last Wish,
Pylon,
The Index,
Graham Central Station,
Livin' Joy,
Roxy Music,
The Kinks,
The Barracudas,
Leonard Cohen,
Kurtis Blow,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cure,
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television Personalities,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Seeds,
Marmalade,
Echospace,
Cecil Taylor,
Supertramp,
U.S. Maple,
Negative Approach,
Newcleus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Das Ding,
Peter and Kerry,
Mo-Dettes,
Bill Near,
Pere Ubu,
The Searchers,
Loose Ends,
Outsiders,
Derrick May,
Hoover,
Rotary Connection,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
The Mojo Men,
Mr. Review,
Kerrie Biddell,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.