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 Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The American Breed to the techno 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a spring reverb 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 marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
The Blues Magoos,
Althea and Donna,
Cluster,
The Vogues,
L. Decosne,
Blake Baxter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Byrd,
Todd Rundgren,
Pierre Henry,
Depeche Mode,
The Fall,
X-101,
Don Cherry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Alice Coltrane,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Searchers,
Can,
Johnny Clarke,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wire,
The Star Department,
Alton Ellis,
Anakelly,
Ken Boothe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Wake,
Porter Ricks,
The Cowsills,
Lightning Bolt,
Electric Prunes,
Derrick May,
Technova,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABC,
Hoover,
Wally Richardson,
Essential Logic,
The Black Dice,
Cymande,
Pagans,
Bobby Sherman,
Deakin,
Malaria!,
Sarah Menescal,
John Foxx,
Jeff Lynne,
Motorama,
The Music Machine,
Monolake,
June of 44,
John Lydon,
The Red Krayola,
Dead Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Harpers Bizarre,
Easy Going,
Colin Newman,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.