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 East Timor and from New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fuzztones,
Barrington Levy,
The Leaves,
Mandrill,
Josef K,
Joy Division,
The Slits,
Terrestrial Tones,
June Days,
Boz Scaggs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Traffic Nightmare,
T. Rex,
the Bar-Kays,
Mission of Burma,
Nirvana,
Eric Copeland,
Anakelly,
Boogie Down Productions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Funkadelic,
Black Sheep,
Simply Red,
Black Moon,
H. Thieme,
Isaac Hayes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Minnie Riperton,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Gong,
Johnny Clarke,
Morten Harket,
Aswad,
Stetsasonic,
Country Teasers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Urselle,
Roger Hodgson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gun Club,
These Immortal Souls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brass Construction,
Clear Light,
Pagans,
The Mummies,
World's Most,
Oblivians,
Agent Orange,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Divine Comedy,
Bronski Beat,
Rakim,
Colin Newman,
The Fortunes,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.