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 Vanuatu and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eric Copeland to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Royal Trux,
Cymande,
H. Thieme,
Whodini,
Todd Terry,
John Holt,
The Gap Band,
One Last Wish,
Qualms,
Symarip,
Ornette Coleman,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
Flash Fearless,
Ronnie Foster,
Groovy Waters,
The Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Accadde A,
Johnny Clarke,
David McCallum,
Kayak,
Das Ding,
The Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
the Slits,
Neu!,
The Misunderstood,
Guru Guru,
Kas Product,
Eurythmics,
the Germs,
Parry Music,
The Fall,
DJ Sneak,
Marine Girls,
Public Enemy,
Suicide,
Man Parrish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Severed Heads,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Connie Case,
Spoonie Gee,
These Immortal Souls,
Kaleidoscope,
Tubeway Army,
Rotary Connection,
The Moody Blues,
Sugar Minott,
Dennis Brown,
The Buckinghams,
The Victims,
Metal Thangz,
Marmalade,
Roger Hodgson,
Buzzcocks,
Reuben Wilson,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.