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 India and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Ronnie Foster to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Wally Richardson,
Blake Baxter,
Severed Heads,
Moebius,
The Sound,
Von Mondo,
Ultravox,
U.S. Maple,
X-Ray Spex,
Jawbox,
John Lydon,
Subhumans,
Guru Guru,
Joy Division,
Brand Nubian,
Jeff Mills,
Rapeman,
The Blackbyrds,
L. Decosne,
Marmalade,
Ituana,
Flash Fearless,
Pagans,
Babytalk,
The Selecter,
Circle Jerks,
Ponytail,
Hasil Adkins,
Harry Pussy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Outsiders,
A Certain Ratio,
The Mummies,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül II,
Bang On A Can,
New Age Steppers,
Funkadelic,
Scion,
Warren Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nik Kershaw,
The Zeros,
Banda Bassotti,
Procol Harum,
Flipper,
the Slits,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boogie Down Productions,
CMW,
Moby Grape,
Joe Finger,
Ash Ra Tempel,
FM Einheit,
Aloha Tigers,
Minny Pops,
Half Japanese,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Anakelly,
In Retrospect,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.