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 Japan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Infiniti to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Soul II Soul,
The Fortunes,
Man Parrish,
Con Funk Shun,
David McCallum,
Ossler,
Nirvana,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Albert Ayler,
U.S. Maple,
Ten City,
Babytalk,
The Electric Prunes,
FM Einheit,
La Düsseldorf,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
X-Ray Spex,
The Modern Lovers,
Andrew Hill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bush Tetras,
OOIOO,
Smog,
Neil Young,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Warren Ellis,
Hashim,
Pagans,
Idris Muhammad,
Bluetip,
The Searchers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ken Boothe,
Skaos,
Ronan,
Roy Ayers,
The Trojans,
Soft Machine,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Blues Magoos,
Lucky Dragons,
Grauzone,
Minnie Riperton,
Technova,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Motorama,
Roxette,
Alphaville,
Mantronix,
Boz Scaggs,
Freddie Wadling,
Minny Pops,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.