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 Colombia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Barbara Tucker,
Bronski Beat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Johnny Clarke,
The Black Dice,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kayak,
Pantytec,
Arcadia,
Fela Kuti,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Almond,
Crispian St. Peters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Los Fastidios,
Monolake,
The Raincoats,
Sällskapet,
Goldenarms,
Soft Machine,
Moss Icon,
L. Decosne,
Stiv Bators,
Pussy Galore,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Divine Comedy,
D'Angelo,
Magazine,
Bootsy Collins,
Newcleus,
Fugazi,
Roger Hodgson,
Dark Day,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Donny Hathaway,
Althea and Donna,
Clear Light,
Radio Birdman,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Sherman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cramps,
Metal Thangz,
Patti Smith,
F. McDonald,
Amon Düül,
Amon Düül II,
The Angels of Light,
Angry Samoans,
Moebius,
Wally Richardson,
Black Flag,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bill Wells,
Black Bananas,
Todd Rundgren,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.