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 Greece and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Graham Central Station to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Sound Behaviour,
The Remains,
Pierre Henry,
Rapeman,
The Divine Comedy,
Pole,
Lower 48,
Black Flag,
Junior Murvin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Chrome,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lucky Dragons,
Negative Approach,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bill Wells,
MDC,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Faraquet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Red Krayola,
Kaleidoscope,
Bob Dylan,
Yaz,
Nik Kershaw,
Bronski Beat,
Fluxion,
Moby Grape,
Magma,
The Neon Judgement,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
ABBA,
The Gap Band,
The Associates,
Metal Thangz,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Au Pairs,
Scratch Acid,
The Kinks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Evens,
The Blues Magoos,
Excepter,
Crime,
La Düsseldorf,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sällskapet,
The Pretty Things,
Popol Vuh,
Drexciya,
Inner City,
Zero Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Howard Jones,
Heaven 17,
The Birthday Party,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marvin Gaye,
The Barracudas,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.