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 Armenia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rufus Thomas to the techno 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aloha Tigers,
Smog,
Excepter,
The Blues Magoos,
The Knickerbockers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Severed Heads,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ohio Players,
Ultra Naté,
Adolescents,
Ultravox,
Godley & Creme,
June Days,
Popol Vuh,
a-ha,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Matthew Bourne,
Rites of Spring,
Groovy Waters,
Hoover,
Glenn Branca,
Marine Girls,
the Normal,
UT,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pierre Henry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lalann,
Skriet,
Altered Images,
Organ,
The Buckinghams,
Alphaville,
Black Sheep,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
David Bowie,
Kurtis Blow,
10cc,
Pagans,
Fluxion,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brick,
The Flesh Eaters,
Slave,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fuzztones,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pylon,
Max Romeo,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Radio Birdman,
F. McDonald,
48th St. Collective,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.