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 Oman and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Beau Brummels to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
DJ Style,
Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Pole,
Sonic Youth,
The Victims,
Q and Not U,
Intrusion,
Al Stewart,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Laurel Aitken,
Infiniti,
B.T. Express,
The Mojo Men,
Vainqueur,
Yusef Lateef,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Copeland,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bill Near,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Blues Magoos,
Marine Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Music Machine,
Goldenarms,
Soul II Soul,
Sparks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grey Daturas,
The Gladiators,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
Silicon Teens,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Last Poets,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Clarke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Seeds,
Yellowson,
Spandau Ballet,
Ornette Coleman,
Funkadelic,
Liliput,
David McCallum,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ohio Players,
T.S.O.L.,
Jandek,
The Velvet Underground,
New York Dolls,
Nick Fraelich,
Matthew Halsall,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nico,
Sight & Sound,
This Heat,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.