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 Lesotho and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ 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 Alice Coltrane to the rap 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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Hashim,
Newcleus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Sherman,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Drexciya,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fad Gadget,
Fat Boys,
Y Pants,
Mo-Dettes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Metal Thangz,
Deadbeat,
Rod Modell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
8 Eyed Spy,
48th St. Collective,
Sound Behaviour,
DJ Sneak,
Accadde A,
Little Man,
Josef K,
Rufus Thomas,
The Music Machine,
The Blackbyrds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jacques Brel,
Yaz,
Niagra,
The Beau Brummels,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scan 7,
La Düsseldorf,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Vogues,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Loose Ends,
Swell Maps,
Arcadia,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.