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 Bahamas and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sun Ra to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Procol Harum,
Cluster,
Masters at Work,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Boz Scaggs,
Laurel Aitken,
Aloha Tigers,
The Five Americans,
The Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Starr,
Mo-Dettes,
This Heat,
E-Dancer,
Pere Ubu,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Sherman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Second Layer,
Letta Mbulu,
Carl Craig,
Spandau Ballet,
Charles Mingus,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Drexciya,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Camouflage,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ronnie Foster,
a-ha,
The Invisible,
A Certain Ratio,
Gong,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pantaleimon,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stetsasonic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soul Sonic Force,
Slave,
T.S.O.L.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soul II Soul,
Sister Nancy,
Rites of Spring,
Joey Negro,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
Traffic Nightmare,
H. Thieme,
Silicon Teens,
Anakelly,
Bizarre Inc.,
Quantec,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.