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 Bahrain and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Associates,
Letta Mbulu,
Barrington Levy,
Rapeman,
Au Pairs,
the Swans,
The Offenders,
The Real Kids,
Supertramp,
Hasil Adkins,
X-102,
Dead Boys,
Bluetip,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Piero Umiliani,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bill Near,
Dawn Penn,
Danielle Patucci,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Enemy,
Steve Hackett,
Prince Buster,
Idris Muhammad,
Bush Tetras,
Soul Sonic Force,
Amon Düül II,
Donny Hathaway,
Hoover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fat Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Groovy Waters,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Charles Mingus,
Harmonia,
Nico,
Fear,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Reed,
Tres Demented,
the Germs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
JFA,
The American Breed,
Anthony Braxton,
Skaos,
B.T. Express,
Technova,
Easy Going,
Guru Guru,
Negative Approach,
Ken Boothe,
Aloha Tigers,
The Last Poets,
H. Thieme,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
Second Layer,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.