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 Chad and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 FM Einheit to the electroclash 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
The Velvet Underground,
Roger Hodgson,
The Martian,
Bob Dylan,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Stooges,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wasted Youth,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
La Düsseldorf,
Matthew Bourne,
Barrington Levy,
Television Personalities,
Cameo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Faraquet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Robert Görl,
John Coltrane,
Index,
John Lydon,
DJ Sneak,
The Blackbyrds,
Talk Talk,
Byron Stingily,
Unrelated Segments,
X-101,
David McCallum,
Gabor Szabo,
Crooked Eye,
Erasure,
Max Romeo,
UT,
Con Funk Shun,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
This Heat,
Roxette,
Whodini,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Camberwell Now,
Robert Wyatt,
Wings,
Isaac Hayes,
Anakelly,
Josef K,
David Bowie,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric Dolphy,
Lakeside,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fad Gadget,
Eli Mardock,
The Happenings,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Heaven 17,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.