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 Suriname and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 clarinet 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 dance 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Byrd,
Warsaw,
Section 25,
Cecil Taylor,
Public Enemy,
Yazoo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bang On A Can,
The Mojo Men,
Audionom,
Eric Copeland,
Camouflage,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aural Exciters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ten City,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
Subhumans,
Sonic Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
a-ha,
Man Parrish,
The Electric Prunes,
Barrington Levy,
Cluster,
Hasil Adkins,
Bauhaus,
Todd Terry,
Scan 7,
Sun Ra,
Qualms,
Robert Wyatt,
Trumans Water,
Can,
Wasted Youth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Count Five,
Scott Walker,
Marmalade,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sound,
Chris & Cosey,
Alton Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Arab on Radar,
the Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Blancmange,
Massinfluence,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Slits,
The Human League,
Marvin Gaye,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.