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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
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 snare 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 Wally Richardson to the rap 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Tropical Tobacco,
X-101,
Excepter,
Graham Central Station,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Hood,
Marc Almond,
UT,
Can,
Ice-T,
Lower 48,
T. Rex,
Fela Kuti,
The Buckinghams,
Von Mondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Cowsills,
The Mojo Men,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Khruangbin,
Banda Bassotti,
Crime,
The Standells,
Ponytail,
Brothers Johnson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Albert Ayler,
LL Cool J,
Ultra Naté,
The Dave Clark Five,
Absolute Body Control,
Babytalk,
Alton Ellis,
JFA,
Joyce Sims,
The Seeds,
Gang of Four,
Drexciya,
Moebius,
Stiv Bators,
David McCallum,
Patti Smith,
The Names,
Nico,
Pussy Galore,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Flag,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Misunderstood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
the Bar-Kays,
Wings,
Smog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Doobie Brothers,
B.T. Express,
Dorothy Ashby,
Young Marble Giants,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.