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 Zimbabwe and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Tom Boy to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Scion,
Nils Olav,
Marc Almond,
Lyres,
Accadde A,
Pulsallama,
The Evens,
Grey Daturas,
Gichy Dan,
Liliput,
Jacques Brel,
Infiniti,
Bobby Sherman,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Neon Judgement,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Reagan Youth,
Wasted Youth,
Groovy Waters,
Metal Thangz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cluster,
Mission of Burma,
Black Flag,
Angry Samoans,
Sandy B,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fugs,
Sam Rivers,
FM Einheit,
Grauzone,
Soft Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Warsaw,
Index,
Funky Four + One,
Sparks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Royal Trux,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bush Tetras,
Cameo,
Johnny Clarke,
Scientists,
In Retrospect,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sex Pistols,
The Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Q and Not U,
Aswad,
Boredoms,
Gregory Isaacs,
U.S. Maple,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arcadia,
Television,
Make Up,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.