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 Palau and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ponytail to the rock 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Crooked Eye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ohio Players,
Pierre Henry,
Sex Pistols,
Blake Baxter,
Stiv Bators,
Duran Duran,
Rekid,
Arthur Verocai,
48th St. Collective,
Matthew Halsall,
Joe Finger,
Model 500,
Sight & Sound,
Pantytec,
Fela Kuti,
Eddi Front,
The Victims,
Trumans Water,
Brand Nubian,
Brick,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Barracudas,
Q65,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
Kurtis Blow,
Tres Demented,
Guru Guru,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric Dolphy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
K-Klass,
Talk Talk,
Slick Rick,
Skriet,
Robert Wyatt,
The Pop Group,
Quantec,
OOIOO,
The Seeds,
Magma,
Bobby Womack,
Amon Düül,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jeff Mills,
Marine Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
Flipper,
Bauhaus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Knickerbockers,
The Gories,
Accadde A,
Sonny Sharrock,
Adolescents,
Scrapy,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.