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 the UAE and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Cosmic Jokers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Los Fastidios,
The Dead C,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fall,
New York Dolls,
Cybotron,
Audionom,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Y Pants,
Joyce Sims,
Camberwell Now,
Technova,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick Morgan,
Donald Byrd,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacob Miller,
Nick Fraelich,
Idris Muhammad,
Bang On A Can,
The J.B.'s,
Ronnie Foster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Clarke,
Shoche,
Fad Gadget,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Organ,
The Gap Band,
Urselle,
Sight & Sound,
Girls At Our Best!,
Warsaw,
Simply Red,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Max Romeo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
Iggy Pop,
the Association,
Deadbeat,
R.M.O.,
Fela Kuti,
Funkadelic,
The Angels of Light,
Ultra Naté,
Flipper,
The Selecter,
Toni Rubio,
Joe Smooth,
The New Christs,
Nirvana,
Gong,
The Doors,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.