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 Madagascar and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Divine Comedy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Radio Birdman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Scratch Acid,
D'Angelo,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Sandy B,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marcia Griffiths,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crash Course in Science,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warren Ellis,
The Zeros,
B.T. Express,
Roxette,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Reagan Youth,
Nik Kershaw,
Niagra,
Moss Icon,
Wire,
Rekid,
LL Cool J,
Hashim,
The Cure,
Donny Hathaway,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Flag,
Pantytec,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Dead Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Matthew Halsall,
Chris & Cosey,
Amazonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skriet,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funkadelic,
Shoche,
Silicon Teens,
the Human League,
Saccharine Trust,
Stetsasonic,
Lakeside,
Young Marble Giants,
Cal Tjader,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rod Modell,
Sam Rivers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Certain Ratio,
Moby Grape,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.