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 Cuba and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Erykah Badu to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ronan,
Camouflage,
Henry Cow,
The Mummies,
Lakeside,
Heaven 17,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Buckinghams,
The Human League,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lucky Dragons,
Lee Hazlewood,
Slick Rick,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Bar-Kays,
MC5,
Robert Wyatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
Parry Music,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Deakin,
The Doors,
Lalann,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moss Icon,
Cecil Taylor,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jandek,
the Association,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sam Rivers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tubeway Army,
New York Dolls,
Amon Düül,
AZ,
a-ha,
Nico,
Matthew Bourne,
Mr. Review,
Symarip,
Visage,
Peter and Kerry,
Amazonics,
Motorama,
Bobby Sherman,
Tres Demented,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Yaz,
The Moody Blues,
Electric Prunes,
Oneida,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Selecter,
Bang On A Can,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Aaron Thompson,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.