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 Tunisia and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach 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?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Stiv Bators,
Das Ding,
Wire,
Matthew Bourne,
Fluxion,
Crispy Ambulance,
Masters at Work,
The Victims,
Brothers Johnson,
Aloha Tigers,
Magma,
Davy DMX,
Prince Buster,
Matthew Halsall,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Names,
Monolake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
R.M.O.,
Symarip,
Robert Görl,
The Tremeloes,
The Young Rascals,
Minor Threat,
The Stooges,
Talk Talk,
Dual Sessions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bauhaus,
Arcadia,
Dawn Penn,
Lower 48,
Bush Tetras,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Sherman,
Spandau Ballet,
Rapeman,
Pagans,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlback,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Arab on Radar,
Japan,
Alice Coltrane,
Neil Young,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Minnie Riperton,
Y Pants,
the Sonics,
Hoover,
Roger Hodgson,
Thompson Twins,
The Moody Blues,
Carl Craig,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.