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 Belgium and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Leaves to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Jacob Miller,
Chris & Cosey,
Gregory Isaacs,
Interpol,
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wally Richardson,
Symarip,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Slackers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Angels of Light,
Underground Resistance,
Laurel Aitken,
Mandrill,
DNA,
Audionom,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Connie Case,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tres Demented,
New Age Steppers,
Ponytail,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Minnie Riperton,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Dirtbombs,
Godley & Creme,
Harry Pussy,
Skriet,
DJ Sneak,
The Motions,
Funky Four + One,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
Inner City,
Althea and Donna,
Leonard Cohen,
The Evens,
Mars,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Porter Ricks,
Rites of Spring,
The Gap Band,
New Order,
Howard Jones,
the Soft Cell,
Jeff Lynne,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Pus,
World's Most,
H. Thieme,
Aaron Thompson,
Hashim,
Supertramp,
Aswad,
Sun Ra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.