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 Monaco and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Los Fastidios to the techno 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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fugs,
One Last Wish,
Bootsy Collins,
Marc Almond,
Procol Harum,
Slick Rick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stockholm Monsters,
Robert Wyatt,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kas Product,
Matthew Halsall,
Marcia Griffiths,
Juan Atkins,
Theoretical Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Los Fastidios,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Slits,
Sällskapet,
Skarface,
Donny Hathaway,
Shuggie Otis,
The Wake,
The Star Department,
Flipper,
John Cale,
The Searchers,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Invisible,
Q and Not U,
The Victims,
Pere Ubu,
Brass Construction,
B.T. Express,
U.S. Maple,
The Mummies,
The Dave Clark Five,
Qualms,
Saccharine Trust,
Shoche,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gong,
Masters at Work,
Rites of Spring,
Minnie Riperton,
Ornette Coleman,
Duran Duran,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nas,
Kayak,
Nico,
Dennis Brown,
Lebanon Hanover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Dirtbombs,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Pop Group,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Unrelated Segments,
Drexciya,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.