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 Italy and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Soul II Soul to the grime 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Joy Division,
Slave,
Popol Vuh,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lalann,
Outsiders,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
Dawn Penn,
the Slits,
Black Moon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Adolescents,
Rod Modell,
John Cale,
Liliput,
Black Sheep,
June Days,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crash Course in Science,
The Cramps,
Goldenarms,
Skaos,
Anthony Braxton,
In Retrospect,
Soul II Soul,
Hasil Adkins,
Juan Atkins,
John Coltrane,
Swans,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Pylon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David McCallum,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eddi Front,
Leonard Cohen,
The Slackers,
Interpol,
Swell Maps,
Saccharine Trust,
Faust,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mantronix,
a-ha,
Urselle,
Scan 7,
Supertramp,
Suicide,
Connie Case,
Livin' Joy,
Ronan,
Second Layer,
Todd Terry,
Flipper,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
James White and The Blacks,
Neil Young,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.