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 Moldova and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grime 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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Ronan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Blancmange,
Bad Manners,
Henry Cow,
John Coltrane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
Althea and Donna,
Nico,
The Happenings,
The Durutti Column,
Angry Samoans,
The American Breed,
Cymande,
Pylon,
Man Parrish,
Bill Wells,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Oneida,
Dark Day,
The Human League,
The Saints,
Gang Starr,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultravox,
Organ,
Pulsallama,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nik Kershaw,
Grandmaster Flash,
Darondo,
Charles Mingus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Maurizio,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Divine Comedy,
Tears for Fears,
The Searchers,
Faust,
Barbara Tucker,
Michelle Simonal,
Groovy Waters,
Ossler,
Howard Jones,
Average White Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Bananas,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
Bronski Beat,
The Gladiators,
Can,
Adolescents,
The Five Americans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.