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 Nicaragua and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the jazz 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Marshall Jefferson,
Los Fastidios,
The Cramps,
Duran Duran,
Minny Pops,
The Flesh Eaters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fugs,
Sexual Harrassment,
LL Cool J,
Prince Buster,
Morten Harket,
Unrelated Segments,
Mars,
Oblivians,
The Star Department,
Massinfluence,
10cc,
Saccharine Trust,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
The Moleskins,
Anthony Braxton,
The Selecter,
Funky Four + One,
Gang Starr,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Cal Tjader,
Warsaw,
Harry Pussy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Intrusion,
In Retrospect,
Graham Central Station,
Jeff Lynne,
Scientists,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Christie,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pulsallama,
Monks,
Fatback Band,
The Dirtbombs,
E-Dancer,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sonic Youth,
Zero Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sparks,
The American Breed,
Fat Boys,
Qualms,
Eric Copeland,
The Divine Comedy,
K-Klass,
Cybotron,
Make Up,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.