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 Monaco and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron 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 10cc to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a spring reverb and an oboe 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 rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Starr,
Tres Demented,
Infiniti,
Donny Hathaway,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Mummies,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Blues Magoos,
John Lydon,
Easy Going,
The Flesh Eaters,
Newcleus,
The United States of America,
Robert Görl,
The Leaves,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Soft Cell,
La Düsseldorf,
MDC,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Hood,
Warren Ellis,
Lower 48,
48th St. Collective,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric Dolphy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
Arab on Radar,
Symarip,
Hardrive,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Organ,
Robert Wyatt,
Roger Hodgson,
Pole,
Aaron Thompson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Happenings,
The Cure,
The Smiths,
Gil Scott Heron,
Man Parrish,
Sex Pistols,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kenny Larkin,
CMW,
Patti Smith,
Supertramp,
Blake Baxter,
The Evens,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiohead,
Nas,
Sam Rivers,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.