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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Aswad to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Magazine,
Hot Snakes,
Pierre Henry,
Bootsy Collins,
Pere Ubu,
Fear,
OOIOO,
The Slits,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
Crooked Eye,
Sun Ra,
Suburban Knight,
Archie Shepp,
Depeche Mode,
The Leaves,
Trumans Water,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Pus,
Shuggie Otis,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ultravox,
The American Breed,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eurythmics,
The Misunderstood,
Jacques Brel,
The Moleskins,
Groovy Waters,
Royal Trux,
Neu!,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Agent Orange,
This Heat,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
June of 44,
Little Man,
Godley & Creme,
Average White Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sun City Girls,
The Martian,
The Monochrome Set,
Fluxion,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Reed,
These Immortal Souls,
Con Funk Shun,
The Techniques,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eric B and Rakim,
Graham Central Station,
Angry Samoans,
Wasted Youth,
Kaleidoscope,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.