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 Albania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the jazz 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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Divine Comedy,
Alice Coltrane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
MC5,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Arthur Verocai,
Tim Buckley,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pagans,
Parry Music,
Oneida,
CMW,
The Trojans,
The Doors,
China Crisis,
Robert Görl,
The Gap Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Bang On A Can,
Grey Daturas,
Mission of Burma,
Lakeside,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gichy Dan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blossom Toes,
Duran Duran,
Severed Heads,
Steve Hackett,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drexciya,
Shuggie Otis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Count Five,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Angels of Light,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Smiths,
Crime,
Terry Callier,
Sister Nancy,
DNA,
Bob Dylan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Black Sheep,
Bill Wells,
Y Pants,
Lower 48,
Fatback Band,
Barry Ungar,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rotary Connection,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monolake,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.