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 Russia and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the guitar 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 D'Angelo to the funk 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
Roger Hodgson,
Crime,
Lungfish,
This Heat,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Simply Red,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rites of Spring,
Warren Ellis,
the Association,
Reuben Wilson,
Au Pairs,
Minny Pops,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker,
The Durutti Column,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Moody Blues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Alphaville,
Rhythm & Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gang Green,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Skatalites,
The Stooges,
The Divine Comedy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The American Breed,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare,
Deadbeat,
Max Romeo,
Althea and Donna,
The Kinks,
Cal Tjader,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Joe Finger,
Marmalade,
the Swans,
MDC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dennis Brown,
Drexciya,
Traffic Nightmare,
New Age Steppers,
Jacques Brel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Model 500,
Depeche Mode,
Todd Rundgren,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.