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 Kyrgyzstan and from Taipei.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin 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 Scion to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Theoretical Girls,
Mark Hollis,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anthony Braxton,
Shuggie Otis,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Walker Brothers,
The Knickerbockers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pantytec,
Young Marble Giants,
Thompson Twins,
Nas,
Lungfish,
Sam Rivers,
Franke,
Joe Smooth,
Swell Maps,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dark Day,
Supertramp,
Matthew Halsall,
the Sonics,
Roy Ayers,
Monolake,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bang On A Can,
Adolescents,
Toni Rubio,
Josef K,
Silicon Teens,
Brand Nubian,
48th St. Collective,
Nick Fraelich,
Average White Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Sound Behaviour,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Second Layer,
Tubeway Army,
Moby Grape,
Sight & Sound,
The Techniques,
Slick Rick,
Blancmange,
Public Enemy,
The American Breed,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
This Heat,
Amazonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gun Club,
The Names,
Yusef Lateef,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.