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 Burkina and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Japan to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultravox,
The Dirtbombs,
Funkadelic,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
Stiv Bators,
Unwound,
Tubeway Army,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Invisible,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Soulsonic Force,
The J.B.'s,
Hashim,
The Doors,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Coltrane,
The Fugs,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vainqueur,
Radiohead,
Absolute Body Control,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
The Smiths,
Black Moon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Hood,
Kenny Larkin,
Suburban Knight,
Little Man,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Au Pairs,
The Dead C,
Blancmange,
Tres Demented,
Rakim,
Sällskapet,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry's Kids,
June of 44,
Eve St. Jones,
Alice Coltrane,
Eddi Front,
Marvin Gaye,
Derrick May,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tears for Fears,
Monolake,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.