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 Bangladesh and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lagos.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 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 The Divine Comedy to the rap 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Bill Near,
Newcleus,
Robert Wyatt,
The Pretty Things,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Lou Christie,
Pole,
Toni Rubio,
John Coltrane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nils Olav,
Camouflage,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marcia Griffiths,
Public Enemy,
Easy Going,
Joyce Sims,
Lightning Bolt,
the Swans,
Funky Four + One,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
K-Klass,
Marine Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Scientists,
Sonic Youth,
Jerry's Kids,
Tres Demented,
10cc,
Cheater Slicks,
Archie Shepp,
UT,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Barracudas,
Liliput,
Derrick May,
Pussy Galore,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
H. Thieme,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fortunes,
Gang of Four,
The Skatalites,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cybotron,
Mars,
Flash Fearless,
Kerri Chandler,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yusef Lateef,
Audionom,
The Leaves,
Ice-T,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
LL Cool J,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.