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 Cape Verde and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Rakim to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
The Dead C,
Freddie Wadling,
Malaria!,
The Searchers,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Womack,
Susan Cadogan,
David McCallum,
Chris & Cosey,
The Red Krayola,
The Grass Roots,
Cal Tjader,
Morten Harket,
Siglo XX,
Sugar Minott,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sarah Menescal,
Magma,
Skaos,
Brass Construction,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Raincoats,
Eric Dolphy,
Pylon,
In Retrospect,
Swell Maps,
Maleditus Sound,
Peter & Gordon,
Lakeside,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pantaleimon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxette,
Crooked Eye,
Shoche,
Steve Hackett,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Drive Like Jehu,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
Shuggie Otis,
Goldenarms,
Unrelated Segments,
Kaleidoscope,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Throbbing Gristle,
Desert Stars,
Eddi Front,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ossler,
E-Dancer,
Erasure,
Carl Craig,
Sparks,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.