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 Morocco and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
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 Captain Beefheart 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 Yusef Lateef to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
the Soft Cell,
The Standells,
Scientists,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lucky Dragons,
Pantaleimon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Soul II Soul,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Make Up,
Massinfluence,
The Cure,
Juan Atkins,
Howard Jones,
Rekid,
The Smoke,
Colin Newman,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gabor Szabo,
Cheater Slicks,
Joyce Sims,
Q65,
Subhumans,
R.M.O.,
Excepter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-102,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Charles Mingus,
The Fugs,
Bang On A Can,
Zero Boys,
the Association,
Henry Cow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boredoms,
Brick,
Joensuu 1685,
Minny Pops,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Junior Murvin,
Ossler,
Clear Light,
Surgeon,
Quando Quango,
Kurtis Blow,
Amon Düül II,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chrome,
Danielle Patucci,
The Happenings,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Hood,
Bob Dylan,
New Order,
Sugar Minott,
Cymande,
Malaria!,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.