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 Bolivia and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Royal Trux,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Average White Band,
Juan Atkins,
Blancmange,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Flash Fearless,
The Gun Club,
Todd Rundgren,
Sam Rivers,
Eric Dolphy,
Charles Mingus,
Desert Stars,
Junior Murvin,
Robert Görl,
The Searchers,
Pantaleimon,
Severed Heads,
Aaron Thompson,
Toni Rubio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wings,
Heaven 17,
Echospace,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The American Breed,
Unrelated Segments,
Henry Cow,
CMW,
Masters at Work,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Angry Samoans,
Bang On A Can,
Jacob Miller,
Eddi Front,
Porter Ricks,
Minny Pops,
Bush Tetras,
Camouflage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Isaac Hayes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Mummies,
Chrome,
Siglo XX,
Warsaw,
Lungfish,
Derrick Morgan,
T. Rex,
Mars,
Piero Umiliani,
Davy DMX,
The Misunderstood,
Yusef Lateef,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.