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 Burundi and from Toronto.
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 Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Supertramp to the electroclash 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Cecil Taylor,
a-ha,
E-Dancer,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eric B and Rakim,
Young Marble Giants,
The Knickerbockers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Stooges,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Schoolly D,
Pussy Galore,
Shoche,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
This Heat,
Scott Walker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Green,
The Moleskins,
Model 500,
Pulsallama,
Wolf Eyes,
Outsiders,
Ice-T,
Japan,
Rod Modell,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Blues Magoos,
The J.B.'s,
The Flesh Eaters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Colin Newman,
John Cale,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Man Parrish,
The Saints,
James White and The Blacks,
Funkadelic,
Laurel Aitken,
Cymande,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Derrick May,
Prince Buster,
The Music Machine,
Con Funk Shun,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
World's Most,
Deepchord,
Joe Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Connie Case,
Neil Young,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.