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 Maldives and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Spokane.
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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sound to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter and Kerry,
Fat Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
Isaac Hayes,
Sex Pistols,
ABBA,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Yazoo,
The Velvet Underground,
Deakin,
Cal Tjader,
Accadde A,
Shoche,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Donny Hathaway,
The Smiths,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen,
The Red Krayola,
Cecil Taylor,
Todd Terry,
the Sonics,
The Cramps,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed,
DJ Sneak,
Cybotron,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Mills,
Lee Hazlewood,
LL Cool J,
June of 44,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Anakelly,
Audionom,
Alice Coltrane,
Qualms,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Tremeloes,
Nils Olav,
Archie Shepp,
The Invisible,
Arcadia,
Vainqueur,
T. Rex,
Sunsets and Hearts,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.