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 Kuwait and from Woodstock.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Junior Murvin to the grunge 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Rod Modell,
Thee Headcoats,
Fear,
Bootsy Collins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Neu!,
This Heat,
The Fall,
Albert Ayler,
Desert Stars,
Joe Smooth,
Deadbeat,
Mr. Review,
The Electric Prunes,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Sherman,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Motions,
Ken Boothe,
Lakeside,
Dual Sessions,
Black Moon,
Pylon,
Eddi Front,
The Offenders,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Vladislav Delay,
Fat Boys,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
Black Pus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Skatalites,
Kayak,
Depeche Mode,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crispian St. Peters,
Metal Thangz,
Nas,
The Misunderstood,
Darondo,
Cymande,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Procol Harum,
Marvin Gaye,
the Germs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Soft Cell,
The Martian,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Beau Brummels,
T. Rex,
Jeff Lynne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Görl,
Hasil Adkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.