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 Moldova and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Womack to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scion,
Procol Harum,
The Remains,
The Misunderstood,
Man Parrish,
Khruangbin,
Con Funk Shun,
New Age Steppers,
Glambeats Corp.,
David McCallum,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Hot Snakes,
the Sonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lucky Dragons,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Q and Not U,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pulsallama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pole,
Archie Shepp,
Ultra Naté,
Rites of Spring,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dawn Penn,
Maurizio,
The Residents,
Stereo Dub,
Underground Resistance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
La Düsseldorf,
John Foxx,
Rotary Connection,
The Golliwogs,
Suburban Knight,
Lightning Bolt,
X-Ray Spex,
Glenn Branca,
a-ha,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül,
Soft Machine,
The Offenders,
Harmonia,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
The Toasters,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mojo Men,
Max Romeo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roxette,
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.