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 Swaziland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jeff Mills,
Cymande,
Half Japanese,
Excepter,
D'Angelo,
The Moleskins,
48th St. Collective,
New York Dolls,
Youth Brigade,
Sugar Minott,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sandy B,
The Divine Comedy,
Nas,
Boz Scaggs,
Radio Birdman,
The Young Rascals,
Los Fastidios,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
U.S. Maple,
Alphaville,
Radiopuhelimet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Monolake,
Dawn Penn,
Jacques Brel,
Fat Boys,
The Wake,
Smog,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rod Modell,
The Slackers,
Althea and Donna,
Susan Cadogan,
the Sonics,
Peter and Kerry,
Gang Starr,
Drexciya,
Joey Negro,
Tubeway Army,
The Misunderstood,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bill Near,
Rapeman,
Cheater Slicks,
The Dead C,
Brothers Johnson,
Michelle Simonal,
LL Cool J,
Ken Boothe,
Johnny Clarke,
This Heat,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Bananas,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobby Womack,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Grass Roots,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.