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 Sudan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Bananas to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Nas,
Wire,
Ornette Coleman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Hashim,
U.S. Maple,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
kango's stein massive,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soulsonic Force,
Wasted Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
Brand Nubian,
Joey Negro,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Excepter,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cheater Slicks,
Agent Orange,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jacob Miller,
Soft Cell,
Rapeman,
Heaven 17,
Bronski Beat,
Flash Fearless,
Rod Modell,
Tim Buckley,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Public Enemy,
Neu!,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Blancmange,
Carl Craig,
OOIOO,
The Cramps,
The Gories,
Alphaville,
Make Up,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Slick Rick,
The Saints,
Jeff Mills,
World's Most,
Television Personalities,
Joy Division,
Davy DMX,
Cymande,
Youth Brigade,
Fela Kuti,
Bobby Womack,
Infiniti,
Henry Cow,
Todd Rundgren,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.