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 Mauritius and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron 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 Frankie Knuckles to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
The Human League,
The Litter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
DNA,
the Human League,
Das Ding,
Blossom Toes,
The Dead C,
Boz Scaggs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reagan Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Radio Birdman,
Section 25,
The Remains,
The Star Department,
The Martian,
Half Japanese,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grandmaster Flash,
Traffic Nightmare,
Juan Atkins,
Wasted Youth,
Altered Images,
The Seeds,
Leonard Cohen,
Japan,
Robert Görl,
Simply Red,
Yellowson,
Porter Ricks,
Essential Logic,
Mark Hollis,
Suicide,
Con Funk Shun,
Kool Moe Dee,
Matthew Bourne,
The Pretty Things,
Marc Almond,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brothers Johnson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mantronix,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gun Club,
Eric Copeland,
Subhumans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Saints,
Iggy Pop,
Arcadia,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker,
Cheater Slicks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.