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 Malawi and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Godley & Creme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Oblivians,
The Stooges,
Harpers Bizarre,
T.S.O.L.,
Moebius,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Red Krayola,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lebanon Hanover,
Spandau Ballet,
Young Marble Giants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Quadrant,
The Divine Comedy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Second Layer,
John Lydon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tomorrow,
Nas,
Charles Mingus,
Slick Rick,
Television Personalities,
Alphaville,
Loose Ends,
Subhumans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Derrick May,
Urselle,
Dead Boys,
The Young Rascals,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mo-Dettes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Animal Collective,
Pussy Galore,
The Techniques,
Barrington Levy,
Fatback Band,
Drexciya,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Masters at Work,
Barclay James Harvest,
Archie Shepp,
the Germs,
Minor Threat,
Pole,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Doors,
Vainqueur,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bush Tetras,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.