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 Haiti and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mojo Men to the techno 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Mandrill,
Severed Heads,
Motorama,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kerri Chandler,
Pole,
The Golliwogs,
Subhumans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
X-102,
Can,
Drexciya,
Tommy Roe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Remains,
X-Ray Spex,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Victims,
Crispy Ambulance,
New York Dolls,
The Misunderstood,
Alison Limerick,
Second Layer,
Eurythmics,
Erasure,
The Pop Group,
Boogie Down Productions,
Thee Headcoats,
MC5,
Roxette,
Matthew Halsall,
Robert Wyatt,
Minutemen,
Marc Almond,
The Busters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skarface,
The Raincoats,
T. Rex,
Neu!,
Jerry's Kids,
Pylon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pussy Galore,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Leaves,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Roger Hodgson,
Outsiders,
Cybotron,
DJ Style,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Symarip,
The Residents,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zero Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.