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 South Sudan and from Lille.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 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 Charles Mingus to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Bobby Womack,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eric Copeland,
June Days,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Görl,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minny Pops,
Desert Stars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Chris & Cosey,
Black Flag,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bronski Beat,
The Skatalites,
Eurythmics,
The Smoke,
Sun City Girls,
Blake Baxter,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bobby Sherman,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Moon,
Skarface,
Moby Grape,
La Düsseldorf,
Pussy Galore,
The Doobie Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tomorrow,
The Barracudas,
Joy Division,
Can,
Junior Murvin,
Al Stewart,
Model 500,
Ken Boothe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jandek,
Section 25,
The Real Kids,
The Sonics,
Suicide,
Rotary Connection,
Cecil Taylor,
John Holt,
The Buckinghams,
Derrick May,
The Knickerbockers,
Outsiders,
Vainqueur,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.