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 Guyana and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ituana to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Junior Murvin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Howard Jones,
Minnie Riperton,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Offenders,
Quantec,
Dawn Penn,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Sherman,
Freddie Wadling,
Lungfish,
James White and The Blacks,
Zero Boys,
A Certain Ratio,
Piero Umiliani,
Warren Ellis,
Hasil Adkins,
Model 500,
The Standells,
Fad Gadget,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Vladislav Delay,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Real Kids,
Fat Boys,
the Normal,
Public Enemy,
Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
Marmalade,
The Slits,
Cal Tjader,
The Moleskins,
The Moody Blues,
Ronan,
Accadde A,
Mandrill,
Johnny Clarke,
Jeru the Damaja,
Make Up,
Parry Music,
Frankie Knuckles,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doors,
Don Cherry,
Warsaw,
Reuben Wilson,
Crispy Ambulance,
T. Rex,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers,
The American Breed,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pretty Things,
Ohio Players,
Gang Starr,
Agitation Free,
Avey Tare,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.