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 Sri Lanka and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba 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 Soul II Soul to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott Heron,
Porter Ricks,
Harmonia,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Associates,
The Seeds,
Goldenarms,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed,
The Raincoats,
Yellowson,
Derrick May,
the Human League,
Terry Callier,
Eli Mardock,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Shoche,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang Starr,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kas Product,
The Kinks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hashim,
Leonard Cohen,
The Last Poets,
Nils Olav,
Jimmy McGriff,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultravox,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fat Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fall,
Moss Icon,
Connie Case,
Sugar Minott,
Wolf Eyes,
Harry Pussy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Hood,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Slick Rick,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dark Day,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lalann,
MDC,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pulsallama,
Iggy Pop,
Slave,
Deadbeat,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.