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 Thailand and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wally Richardson to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Popol Vuh,
Half Japanese,
Monolake,
Throbbing Gristle,
The American Breed,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scratch Acid,
Marshall Jefferson,
Grey Daturas,
Talk Talk,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Doors,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Piero Umiliani,
Thompson Twins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Blackbyrds,
Radio Birdman,
Procol Harum,
Bluetip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Tremeloes,
Saccharine Trust,
Yellowson,
the Normal,
Unrelated Segments,
Hashim,
Livin' Joy,
Alison Limerick,
Matthew Bourne,
June Days,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nirvana,
Infiniti,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Star Department,
The Names,
The Pretty Things,
Japan,
Ohio Players,
The Cosmic Jokers,
AZ,
The Red Krayola,
The Walker Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Second Layer,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Beau Brummels,
Eric Copeland,
Country Teasers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ludus,
Marc Almond,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bush Tetras,
Spandau Ballet,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.