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 Zimbabwe and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the rock 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Ice-T,
Swans,
Crooked Eye,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Byron Stingily,
Absolute Body Control,
Charles Mingus,
Oblivians,
Visage,
Moss Icon,
Ituana,
The Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
David Bowie,
Sarah Menescal,
Country Teasers,
Grauzone,
Swell Maps,
Max Romeo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ronan,
Second Layer,
This Heat,
The Fugs,
Cybotron,
Pere Ubu,
The Litter,
FM Einheit,
Dead Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ultravox,
The Victims,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deakin,
John Lydon,
The Saints,
The Last Poets,
Darondo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Model 500,
Judy Mowatt,
Faraquet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
Motorama,
Matthew Bourne,
Electric Prunes,
The Moleskins,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Sound,
Erykah Badu,
LL Cool J,
Flipper,
The Index,
The American Breed,
The Music Machine,
Main Source,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.