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 Greece and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare,
Theoretical Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Tears for Fears,
Joey Negro,
Gabor Szabo,
Echospace,
Con Funk Shun,
John Holt,
Lungfish,
Cheater Slicks,
Camouflage,
The Doobie Brothers,
Robert Görl,
T. Rex,
The Toasters,
Sonic Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Japan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
June Days,
Gang of Four,
Bootsy Collins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brass Construction,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Lydon,
Minny Pops,
Amon Düül,
Junior Murvin,
The American Breed,
China Crisis,
Metal Thangz,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeff Mills,
Pagans,
The United States of America,
Joe Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
Quadrant,
MC5,
The Beau Brummels,
The Velvet Underground,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Public Enemy,
Marmalade,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gun Club,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Television,
Vladislav Delay,
Sex Pistols,
The Selecter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Freddie Wadling,
The Walker Brothers,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.