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 Bangladesh and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Harmonia,
The Beau Brummels,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cowsills,
The Happenings,
Fluxion,
Pylon,
Con Funk Shun,
Ten City,
Joey Negro,
Harry Pussy,
Zero Boys,
Excepter,
Eric Dolphy,
Vainqueur,
Jeru the Damaja,
Max Romeo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
Deadbeat,
Barrington Levy,
Rosa Yemen,
Tommy Roe,
The Gories,
Henry Cow,
Camouflage,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scan 7,
Ronan,
Television,
The Smoke,
Delta 5,
Freddie Wadling,
Susan Cadogan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Carl Craig,
Maleditus Sound,
The Moleskins,
Black Bananas,
The Electric Prunes,
Sugar Minott,
Los Fastidios,
Ituana,
Youth Brigade,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Josef K,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aural Exciters,
T.S.O.L.,
Black Pus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
June Days,
Young Marble Giants,
Audionom,
The Fire Engines,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.