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 Nicaragua and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
The Sound,
The Busters,
Quando Quango,
ABBA,
The Barracudas,
Bauhaus,
Derrick May,
Ohio Players,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bush Tetras,
Lalann,
Robert Wyatt,
Organ,
Eric Copeland,
The Seeds,
Average White Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Faraquet,
Chris & Cosey,
The Smoke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Janne Schatter,
The Buckinghams,
Black Bananas,
Crash Course in Science,
Mr. Review,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cure,
cv313,
Gang Gang Dance,
Second Layer,
Pagans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pierre Henry,
Oneida,
Simply Red,
Toni Rubio,
Index,
The Offenders,
Loose Ends,
The Monks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Green,
Matthew Halsall,
F. McDonald,
Brass Construction,
Schoolly D,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Neon Judgement,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Near,
KRS-One,
Nas,
Ken Boothe,
Television,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.