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 Serbia and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gap Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June Days,
La Düsseldorf,
One Last Wish,
Deakin,
Monks,
James White and The Blacks,
Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gabor Szabo,
Heaven 17,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Roxy Music,
Adolescents,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rufus Thomas,
Erykah Badu,
Underground Resistance,
The Residents,
Donny Hathaway,
Groovy Waters,
Tom Boy,
Cal Tjader,
F. McDonald,
Livin' Joy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magma,
The Angels of Light,
Colin Newman,
Surgeon,
Don Cherry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
Clear Light,
48th St. Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
UT,
Fat Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Neon Judgement,
The Raincoats,
Jesper Dahlback,
Malaria!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Y Pants,
Suburban Knight,
Morten Harket,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Agitation Free,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jacques Brel,
Parry Music,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Radiohead,
Little Man,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.