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 Mexico and from Spokane.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe 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 Althea and Donna to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Judy Mowatt,
Circle Jerks,
Young Marble Giants,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grauzone,
Essential Logic,
Excepter,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
a-ha,
Derrick May,
The Litter,
Blancmange,
Slave,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Teasers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Real Kids,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Marmalade,
Electric Prunes,
Vladislav Delay,
Ossler,
Talk Talk,
Fatback Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Walker Brothers,
Funkadelic,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed,
Lyres,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Desert Stars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Offenders,
AZ,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Glenn Branca,
Mr. Review,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scratch Acid,
Echospace,
Bobby Womack,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
Rosa Yemen,
Stiv Bators,
Sight & Sound,
Marine Girls,
Alphaville,
Morten Harket,
Terry Callier,
Aloha Tigers,
Fad Gadget,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lindisfarne,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.