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 Samoa and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia 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 Angry Samoans to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun City Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
Slave,
Crime,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
Bang On A Can,
Arab on Radar,
Kayak,
Porter Ricks,
Marshall Jefferson,
T.S.O.L.,
Severed Heads,
The New Christs,
Gabor Szabo,
Chris Corsano,
Black Bananas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eyeless In Gaza,
UT,
Suburban Knight,
Toni Rubio,
Kenny Larkin,
The Electric Prunes,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Masters at Work,
Terry Callier,
Gang of Four,
Flipper,
The Blackbyrds,
Mo-Dettes,
Joe Smooth,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Soft Cell,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aaron Thompson,
Skriet,
Reuben Wilson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Don Cherry,
Radiopuhelimet,
Guru Guru,
Moss Icon,
Colin Newman,
Soft Cell,
Slick Rick,
Accadde A,
The Gap Band,
The Real Kids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nick Fraelich,
Urselle,
John Coltrane,
Crash Course in Science,
Skarface,
Mandrill,
Josef K,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.