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 Dominican Republic and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mad Mike to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Motorama,
Sixth Finger,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Copeland,
Electric Prunes,
Bush Tetras,
Bill Wells,
Faust,
Soft Cell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Henry Cow,
The Fortunes,
Sam Rivers,
Crash Course in Science,
B.T. Express,
Fluxion,
The Doors,
Donald Byrd,
Darondo,
Organ,
the Fania All-Stars,
10cc,
MC5,
Depeche Mode,
DJ Sneak,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Green,
The Stooges,
E-Dancer,
Brass Construction,
The Black Dice,
Joe Finger,
Cameo,
Davy DMX,
The Invisible,
Mark Hollis,
Babytalk,
Animal Collective,
Theoretical Girls,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
Jacques Brel,
Aural Exciters,
Maurizio,
Spandau Ballet,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
ABC,
Malaria!,
Matthew Bourne,
David Bowie,
the Human League,
Subhumans,
Underground Resistance,
Hardrive,
The Neon Judgement,
OOIOO,
Fad Gadget,
Mo-Dettes,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.