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 Poland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the guitar 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 Gabor Szabo to the grime 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Tropical Tobacco,
Beasts of Bourbon,
L. Decosne,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids,
Underground Resistance,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lyres,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Funkadelic,
Main Source,
Suicide,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flamin' Groovies,
Newcleus,
Harry Pussy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Clarke,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Excepter,
DJ Style,
Kerrie Biddell,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crash Course in Science,
Eli Mardock,
La Düsseldorf,
cv313,
Sonic Youth,
Outsiders,
This Heat,
the Bar-Kays,
Kaleidoscope,
Black Bananas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Coltrane,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalann,
Whodini,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deadbeat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Wake,
David Axelrod,
Eric Dolphy,
Flash Fearless,
Connie Case,
Soft Machine,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Motorama,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Banda Bassotti,
The Move,
Bronski Beat,
Howard Jones,
Colin Newman,
The Young Rascals,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.