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 San Marino and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Nils Olav to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rufus Thomas,
Black Bananas,
Danielle Patucci,
Jacques Brel,
Ronnie Foster,
Soul Sonic Force,
Brothers Johnson,
Rod Modell,
UT,
Sex Pistols,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Accadde A,
Spandau Ballet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minor Threat,
The Red Krayola,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Görl,
Joensuu 1685,
Tom Boy,
The Sonics,
Absolute Body Control,
Alice Coltrane,
Peter and Kerry,
Archie Shepp,
ABBA,
Soulsonic Force,
Mission of Burma,
Deepchord,
Brick,
Pantaleimon,
Mad Mike,
Carl Craig,
Junior Murvin,
Warren Ellis,
John Coltrane,
DNA,
Dual Sessions,
The Fire Engines,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nico,
8 Eyed Spy,
Max Romeo,
Gang of Four,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Surgeon,
Bootsy Collins,
the Normal,
The Moleskins,
Charles Mingus,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
The Grass Roots,
Grey Daturas,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.