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 Andorra and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Walker Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
Iggy Pop,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camberwell Now,
Sonic Youth,
Second Layer,
Blake Baxter,
Sight & Sound,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Icehouse,
The Moleskins,
Slave,
The Cramps,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pylon,
Procol Harum,
Roy Ayers,
Boogie Down Productions,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric Copeland,
Kas Product,
the Germs,
Sam Rivers,
Delta 5,
Robert Hood,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eve St. Jones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Blues Magoos,
John Foxx,
The Gladiators,
Electric Prunes,
Tears for Fears,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television Personalities,
Gerry Rafferty,
Yazoo,
DJ Sneak,
Schoolly D,
The Slackers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Matthew Halsall,
The Gories,
Josef K,
Derrick Morgan,
Pierre Henry,
Lalo Schifrin,
Joyce Sims,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crash Course in Science,
Glenn Branca,
Qualms,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.