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 Syria and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Michael McDonald 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 Curtis Mayfield 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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Thompson Twins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suicide,
Warsaw,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Liliput,
David McCallum,
E-Dancer,
Pantytec,
The Birthday Party,
Eden Ahbez,
Scott Walker,
The Toasters,
Wasted Youth,
Lucky Dragons,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Loose Ends,
F. McDonald,
Dual Sessions,
Public Enemy,
Juan Atkins,
X-Ray Spex,
Scientists,
Clear Light,
Oneida,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Buzzcocks,
Soul II Soul,
Donald Byrd,
Alison Limerick,
Surgeon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Supertramp,
These Immortal Souls,
Derrick May,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Mills,
Con Funk Shun,
Ohio Players,
Crispian St. Peters,
Motorama,
Masters at Work,
Sun Ra,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed,
Gang Starr,
Ponytail,
Sister Nancy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fugazi,
Minnie Riperton,
the Association,
Chrome,
Kayak,
DJ Style,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Misunderstood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Judy Mowatt,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.