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 Korea North and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Charles Mingus to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Cymande,
Sex Pistols,
DJ Sneak,
Ten City,
Youth Brigade,
Nas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rapeman,
Kaleidoscope,
B.T. Express,
Von Mondo,
MDC,
The Fortunes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kerri Chandler,
Nico,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Livin' Joy,
The Trojans,
Blossom Toes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tres Demented,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lucky Dragons,
Royal Trux,
Rites of Spring,
Fat Boys,
Mars,
Unrelated Segments,
Aswad,
Cluster,
Interpol,
Henry Cow,
Joy Division,
Mission of Burma,
Excepter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nils Olav,
Bronski Beat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lightning Bolt,
Pierre Henry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deepchord,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Reagan Youth,
Roy Ayers,
Nation of Ulysses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
Nirvana,
Kas Product,
Maurizio,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Vogues,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.