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 Somalia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kinks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
ABC,
Stockholm Monsters,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Techniques,
Bill Wells,
Terrestrial Tones,
T.S.O.L.,
Sällskapet,
Nico,
Scott Walker,
Flash Fearless,
Depeche Mode,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Move,
Connie Case,
Davy DMX,
Minutemen,
Stereo Dub,
Talk Talk,
ABBA,
Fatback Band,
Silicon Teens,
Robert Görl,
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
John Cale,
Urselle,
Accadde A,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arthur Verocai,
Nils Olav,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
The Saints,
Heaven 17,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Godley & Creme,
F. McDonald,
Moss Icon,
a-ha,
the Association,
Fear,
The Trojans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
Warsaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
David McCallum,
The Invisible,
FM Einheit,
The Dirtbombs,
Lower 48,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.