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 France and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ornette Coleman 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
48th St. Collective,
Tears for Fears,
Joyce Sims,
Wire,
David McCallum,
Don Cherry,
The Gories,
Fatback Band,
Soul II Soul,
The Busters,
Fat Boys,
The Martian,
Zapp,
Warsaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Q65,
the Association,
The Fuzztones,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hasil Adkins,
Franke,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Supertramp,
Jeff Lynne,
Slick Rick,
Yusef Lateef,
The Modern Lovers,
Masters at Work,
Throbbing Gristle,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
Kayak,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Electric Prunes,
Davy DMX,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Audionom,
Aural Exciters,
Amazonics,
Sun City Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
Dead Boys,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stetsasonic,
The Slackers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Little Man,
Barbara Tucker,
John Lydon,
The Residents,
Groovy Waters,
Ludus,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Grauzone,
Technova,
Trumans Water,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.