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 Namibia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 E-Dancer to the rap 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Whodini,
The Grass Roots,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Pop Group,
Index,
Sparks,
LL Cool J,
The Standells,
Bobby Byrd,
Sister Nancy,
Bauhaus,
Los Fastidios,
Kenny Larkin,
Kerrie Biddell,
Zapp,
New York Dolls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Donny Hathaway,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ornette Coleman,
La Düsseldorf,
Bluetip,
Max Romeo,
Sound Behaviour,
Radiohead,
Henry Cow,
Bang On A Can,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roxette,
Harry Pussy,
The Divine Comedy,
Jeff Lynne,
Warren Ellis,
Easy Going,
The Wake,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ponytail,
The Last Poets,
B.T. Express,
the Normal,
Tomorrow,
Malaria!,
Pantaleimon,
Anthony Braxton,
Joyce Sims,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Terry,
The Angels of Light,
the Slits,
Soul II Soul,
These Immortal Souls,
June Days,
Robert Wyatt,
Kas Product,
Camouflage,
The Move,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.