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 Tonga and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the techno 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
World's Most,
Matthew Halsall,
Tomorrow,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
Rosa Yemen,
Spandau Ballet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Slackers,
Letta Mbulu,
Blancmange,
The Monks,
R.M.O.,
The Golliwogs,
Barry Ungar,
The Divine Comedy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Hood,
Jesper Dahlback,
Minnie Riperton,
Toni Rubio,
The Walker Brothers,
Tubeway Army,
Metal Thangz,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Happenings,
Babytalk,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magazine,
Country Teasers,
Porter Ricks,
The Busters,
The Raincoats,
Country Joe & The Fish,
MDC,
a-ha,
Dorothy Ashby,
Simply Red,
Fugazi,
Ronnie Foster,
Royal Trux,
Skriet,
Soul Sonic Force,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
Maleditus Sound,
The Doors,
Loose Ends,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Althea and Donna,
Con Funk Shun,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
Neu!,
The Barracudas,
the Human League,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.