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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes 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 Ice-T to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba 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 synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Slave,
Sex Pistols,
The Pretty Things,
Sun City Girls,
Amazonics,
Erasure,
Massinfluence,
Arthur Verocai,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
One Last Wish,
Liliput,
Subhumans,
Howard Jones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Max Romeo,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vainqueur,
Wasted Youth,
Rakim,
Monolake,
Banda Bassotti,
Rod Modell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Althea and Donna,
Inner City,
Bobby Womack,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Gang Dance,
ABC,
The Trojans,
Ituana,
Boredoms,
Sixth Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fluxion,
Andrew Hill,
Chris Corsano,
Newcleus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Malaria!,
Kurtis Blow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bauhaus,
Unrelated Segments,
Be Bop Deluxe,
David Bowie,
Lou Reed,
The Zeros,
Donald Byrd,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.