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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ 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 Don Cherry to the jazz 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Marc Almond,
Soft Cell,
The Real Kids,
Aswad,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
Yusef Lateef,
Freddie Wadling,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Monks,
Marine Girls,
Cymande,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jeff Mills,
Donny Hathaway,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Gang Dance,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barrington Levy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cluster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Human League,
Barry Ungar,
Yazoo,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
Sandy B,
8 Eyed Spy,
Urselle,
Scrapy,
Make Up,
Franke,
the Swans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Visage,
Skriet,
Juan Atkins,
Pole,
Nils Olav,
Sight & Sound,
Lakeside,
Morten Harket,
Yellowson,
Black Sheep,
Young Marble Giants,
Eric Copeland,
Piero Umiliani,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Moon,
Pagans,
Nas,
Blancmange,
Moby Grape,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Peter and Kerry,
Ultravox,
The Searchers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.