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 Eritrea and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the rap 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Offenders,
Ponytail,
Mark Hollis,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hasil Adkins,
Glenn Branca,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Procol Harum,
Leonard Cohen,
The Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Ronnie Foster,
Public Image Ltd.,
Subhumans,
Popol Vuh,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
Youth Brigade,
Drexciya,
Aswad,
Jacob Miller,
Judy Mowatt,
Q and Not U,
Soul II Soul,
Gil Scott Heron,
Robert Wyatt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Divine Comedy,
Brand Nubian,
Guru Guru,
Brick,
Rites of Spring,
Rekid,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Martian,
Eli Mardock,
The Music Machine,
Marmalade,
Simply Red,
Radiopuhelimet,
JFA,
Erykah Badu,
Funkadelic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boz Scaggs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
DJ Style,
David McCallum,
Ten City,
Alton Ellis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
T.S.O.L.,
Can,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Derrick Morgan,
Monks,
Visage,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.