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 Slovenia and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 David Axelrod to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Joensuu 1685,
Talk Talk,
The Last Poets,
The Velvet Underground,
Erykah Badu,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kevin Saunderson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Knickerbockers,
Unrelated Segments,
Cecil Taylor,
Glenn Branca,
T. Rex,
The Saints,
This Heat,
The Smiths,
F. McDonald,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
These Immortal Souls,
Alice Coltrane,
Aswad,
Harry Pussy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dawn Penn,
The American Breed,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
Hoover,
Peter & Gordon,
Basic Channel,
The Pretty Things,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eden Ahbez,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lalo Schifrin,
Newcleus,
The Moleskins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minny Pops,
Arab on Radar,
Stetsasonic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kerrie Biddell,
CMW,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soft Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
David McCallum,
Masters at Work,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Skatalites,
John Foxx,
Roxette,
ABBA,
Depeche Mode,
Aloha Tigers,
Inner City,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.