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 Colombia and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Robert Wyatt to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer 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 theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Supertramp,
Nils Olav,
X-Ray Spex,
Country Teasers,
Althea and Donna,
Leonard Cohen,
Graham Central Station,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scratch Acid,
Stiv Bators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gong,
Hoover,
Eurythmics,
Ronan,
Wings,
Khruangbin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Hot Snakes,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Litter,
Glenn Branca,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Danielle Patucci,
Crime,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Los Fastidios,
DNA,
Stockholm Monsters,
The New Christs,
Inner City,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Peter & Gordon,
John Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
K-Klass,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
Maleditus Sound,
Drexciya,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang of Four,
June Days,
Technova,
Erykah Badu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Human League,
The Modern Lovers,
Sound Behaviour,
Glambeats Corp.,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
Thompson Twins,
Roxy Music,
Gabor Szabo,
Cal Tjader,
Echospace,
Cameo,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.