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 Guinea-Bissau and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Black Moon to the funk 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum 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 spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
F. McDonald,
Sandy B,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tom Boy,
Funky Four + One,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantaleimon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Icehouse,
Skaos,
Scan 7,
Peter & Gordon,
The Residents,
Sister Nancy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Davy DMX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Lungfish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
E-Dancer,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Prince Buster,
Young Marble Giants,
New Order,
Livin' Joy,
The Saints,
Todd Terry,
Tubeway Army,
Lalann,
Lightning Bolt,
Little Man,
Sällskapet,
Lakeside,
Cybotron,
Vladislav Delay,
Idris Muhammad,
Gerry Rafferty,
New Age Steppers,
Ken Boothe,
The Smiths,
Bauhaus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
ABC,
the Swans,
Cluster,
Gil Scott Heron,
Procol Harum,
Sam Rivers,
Sixth Finger,
Scrapy,
Deepchord,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bootsy Collins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
John Foxx,
Television,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.