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 Taiwan and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 The Flesh Eaters to the techno 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Goldenarms,
The Birthday Party,
JFA,
Scrapy,
Arthur Verocai,
Blancmange,
The Dead C,
Piero Umiliani,
Faust,
The Toasters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Howard Jones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Infiniti,
Sonic Youth,
Aswad,
X-Ray Spex,
Ludus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Harmonia,
Outsiders,
Derrick Morgan,
The Busters,
Alice Coltrane,
Wings,
Roy Ayers,
The Seeds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yazoo,
Graham Central Station,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Terrestrial Tones,
The New Christs,
Accadde A,
World's Most,
Marc Almond,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
James White and The Blacks,
The Moody Blues,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sällskapet,
Royal Trux,
In Retrospect,
Agitation Free,
Eric B and Rakim,
Clear Light,
Absolute Body Control,
Dorothy Ashby,
Organ,
Wasted Youth,
Funkadelic,
Procol Harum,
Spoonie Gee,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Lynne,
LL Cool J,
John Holt,
Silicon Teens,
cv313,
Soft Machine,
Maurizio,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.