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 Malta 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Saccharine Trust to the grunge 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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Osbourne,
La Düsseldorf,
U.S. Maple,
UT,
Skriet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Drive Like Jehu,
Derrick May,
The Trojans,
Jawbox,
Bobby Byrd,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Dirtbombs,
the Normal,
Connie Case,
Camberwell Now,
The Mummies,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David Bowie,
James White and The Blacks,
Dark Day,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Monks,
Audionom,
Quando Quango,
The Beau Brummels,
Buzzcocks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Matthew Bourne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Guru Guru,
Byron Stingily,
Magma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wasted Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Silicon Teens,
Quantec,
Kenny Larkin,
The Mojo Men,
Sun City Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gong,
E-Dancer,
Mr. Review,
Anthony Braxton,
Joyce Sims,
Sugar Minott,
Ten City,
Clear Light,
Eric Copeland,
The Electric Prunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.