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 Turkmenistan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 James White and The Blacks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Simply Red,
The American Breed,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme,
Faust,
The Flesh Eaters,
Flash Fearless,
The Grass Roots,
Deakin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sällskapet,
Laurel Aitken,
Maleditus Sound,
The Black Dice,
Sound Behaviour,
Index,
Graham Central Station,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Blues Magoos,
Interpol,
The Litter,
Bronski Beat,
Essential Logic,
Jeff Lynne,
Aural Exciters,
Pierre Henry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Sheep,
Dennis Brown,
Gastr Del Sol,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
The Music Machine,
Popol Vuh,
Nick Fraelich,
The Seeds,
Derrick May,
Underground Resistance,
Connie Case,
The Dead C,
Joy Division,
Toni Rubio,
Letta Mbulu,
Stereo Dub,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare,
Funky Four + One,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hot Snakes,
Todd Terry,
The Walker Brothers,
Adolescents,
Ossler,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jerry's Kids,
Ronnie Foster,
Khruangbin,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.