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 Eritrea and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Bang On A Can to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
cv313,
Main Source,
The Durutti Column,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
kango's stein massive,
Harry Pussy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultra Naté,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
ABC,
Nils Olav,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cybotron,
Fluxion,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare,
Kerri Chandler,
Maleditus Sound,
Hardrive,
Joe Finger,
Skarface,
Motorama,
Mr. Review,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
The Real Kids,
Television,
Eric Copeland,
Livin' Joy,
Ice-T,
Crooked Eye,
Charles Mingus,
Lyres,
Quadrant,
The Fortunes,
The New Christs,
The Mummies,
Bill Near,
Joy Division,
Drexciya,
Y Pants,
Fatback Band,
The Cowsills,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tom Boy,
T.S.O.L.,
Roxette,
The Fire Engines,
Deakin,
The Trojans,
Hoover,
Bobby Byrd,
Davy DMX,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Leaves,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.