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 Nigeria and from Columbus.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Qualms to the grime 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sandy B,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Byrd,
Fugazi,
John Holt,
Rod Modell,
Outsiders,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Searchers,
T. Rex,
Agent Orange,
The Offenders,
Excepter,
Ossler,
Alison Limerick,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ronnie Foster,
Radiopuhelimet,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fall,
Moebius,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sight & Sound,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Motorama,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blues Magoos,
Mission of Burma,
Section 25,
The Black Dice,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Star Department,
Cymande,
Echospace,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Procol Harum,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Association,
Sound Behaviour,
Second Layer,
Lakeside,
Von Mondo,
Sun City Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tim Buckley,
cv313,
Andrew Hill,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Cramps,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.