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 Jamaica 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 David McCallum to the electroclash 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Lindisfarne,
Little Man,
Faraquet,
Colin Newman,
Robert Görl,
Loose Ends,
The Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
Bluetip,
Buzzcocks,
Charles Mingus,
Cheater Slicks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cybotron,
D'Angelo,
Severed Heads,
Althea and Donna,
The American Breed,
The Smoke,
The Martian,
Matthew Halsall,
Moss Icon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Stetsasonic,
Von Mondo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pulsallama,
Pierre Henry,
Fat Boys,
the Association,
Minnie Riperton,
Rites of Spring,
Ultimate Spinach,
X-Ray Spex,
Index,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Wells,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sound Behaviour,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scientists,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Starr,
MC5,
The Skatalites,
Mark Hollis,
Wolf Eyes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sonics,
Los Fastidios,
Au Pairs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun City Girls,
The Sound,
Lower 48,
Eve St. Jones,
Wings,
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.