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 Marshall Islands and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Angels of Light to the funk 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
David Axelrod,
Lebanon Hanover,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
Joyce Sims,
Panda Bear,
ABC,
MDC,
The Kinks,
Malaria!,
Ponytail,
Eddi Front,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Happenings,
Sound Behaviour,
T. Rex,
New Age Steppers,
Ludus,
Todd Terry,
Minor Threat,
Amon Düül,
Black Sheep,
Technova,
Section 25,
Darondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Don Cherry,
Arthur Verocai,
The Evens,
Brass Construction,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Model 500,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lungfish,
Spoonie Gee,
The American Breed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Almond,
Khruangbin,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shoche,
The Barracudas,
The Misunderstood,
Siglo XX,
Zapp,
Avey Tare,
Intrusion,
Lou Reed,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gories,
Porter Ricks,
Funkadelic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.