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 Solomon Islands and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Roger Hodgson to the grunge 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Donald Byrd,
Rakim,
Erasure,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
PIL,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
Joe Finger,
Make Up,
Ornette Coleman,
Kevin Saunderson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Aloha Tigers,
Accadde A,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tears for Fears,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Livin' Joy,
Ponytail,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Alphaville,
Banda Bassotti,
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
Drive Like Jehu,
Von Mondo,
Todd Terry,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
Cameo,
The Red Krayola,
Mission of Burma,
The Tremeloes,
Nils Olav,
Yaz,
Moebius,
Brand Nubian,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Second Layer,
Ultra Naté,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tim Buckley,
ABC,
Zapp,
Altered Images,
Lou Christie,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
DJ Style,
Kurtis Blow,
James White and The Blacks,
a-ha,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Electric Prunes,
the Association,
Bad Manners,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.