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 Kuwait and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Eve St. Jones to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
The Move,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Aloha Tigers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Bill Wells,
Swans,
Heaven 17,
The Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Moss Icon,
The Last Poets,
Terrestrial Tones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Victims,
Rosa Yemen,
Fat Boys,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pere Ubu,
Brass Construction,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Sherman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Simply Red,
Roy Ayers,
Piero Umiliani,
Letta Mbulu,
Icehouse,
Boredoms,
Michelle Simonal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Symarip,
Aaron Thompson,
The Kinks,
Chrome,
The Birthday Party,
Junior Murvin,
U.S. Maple,
Audionom,
Freddie Wadling,
The United States of America,
Skarface,
Althea and Donna,
Alphaville,
Lyres,
Bizarre Inc.,
Das Ding,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alice Coltrane,
Franke,
Bush Tetras,
Jimmy McGriff,
Average White Band,
Fluxion,
Wire,
Flash Fearless,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gap Band,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.