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 Peru and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Man Eating Sloth to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
The Walker Brothers,
Loose Ends,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Whodini,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Niagra,
The Dirtbombs,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scan 7,
Junior Murvin,
Leonard Cohen,
Make Up,
The Selecter,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Severed Heads,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arcadia,
The Gladiators,
Marshall Jefferson,
Flipper,
Easy Going,
The Divine Comedy,
Amon Düül II,
Robert Görl,
Eden Ahbez,
Malaria!,
T. Rex,
The Victims,
Suburban Knight,
The Last Poets,
Amon Düül,
Cal Tjader,
Joyce Sims,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Blues Magoos,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fad Gadget,
Matthew Halsall,
Rhythm & Sound,
Byron Stingily,
The Gories,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spoonie Gee,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
This Heat,
Delon & Dalcan,
Agent Orange,
Yaz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eve St. Jones,
Theoretical Girls,
Deakin,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.