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 Mozambique and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gerry Rafferty to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Kaleidoscope,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
Barbara Tucker,
In Retrospect,
David Bowie,
Quando Quango,
Junior Murvin,
Stiv Bators,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aaron Thompson,
The Leaves,
Barrington Levy,
The Misunderstood,
The Doors,
Mark Hollis,
Tommy Roe,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Intrusion,
Eden Ahbez,
Sight & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Dawn Penn,
The Stooges,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Sheep,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alton Ellis,
Shuggie Otis,
Henry Cow,
OOIOO,
Robert Hood,
Agent Orange,
Idris Muhammad,
June of 44,
Underground Resistance,
Ohio Players,
Radiohead,
Motorama,
Technova,
Bill Near,
Royal Trux,
Erasure,
Steve Hackett,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brothers Johnson,
Soft Machine,
R.M.O.,
Thee Headcoats,
The Litter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Dead C,
Arthur Verocai,
Cymande,
Harry Pussy,
Sandy B,
MC5,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.