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 Spain and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the grunge 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
F. McDonald,
DJ Style,
Surgeon,
The Smoke,
The Kinks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Toni Rubio,
Funky Four + One,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Pretty Things,
Bizarre Inc.,
Metal Thangz,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jacob Miller,
Index,
Excepter,
Interpol,
The J.B.'s,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lakeside,
Brand Nubian,
Boz Scaggs,
Lindisfarne,
Boogie Down Productions,
Arthur Verocai,
Nils Olav,
Scott Walker,
Funkadelic,
Flamin' Groovies,
Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gap Band,
Ludus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Liliput,
Nas,
Tim Buckley,
In Retrospect,
Cheater Slicks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Cell,
The Birthday Party,
Bill Wells,
Henry Cow,
The Knickerbockers,
Los Fastidios,
The Fuzztones,
Procol Harum,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Lydon,
Ken Boothe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Association,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Modern Lovers,
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.