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 Lebanon and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare 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 Joey Negro to the funk 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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
T. Rex,
Neil Young,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gong,
Lalo Schifrin,
James White and The Blacks,
Fat Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
U.S. Maple,
John Coltrane,
Panda Bear,
Pantaleimon,
June Days,
DJ Style,
Funky Four + One,
Rakim,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flash Fearless,
Babytalk,
The Leaves,
The Fall,
Moby Grape,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Sound,
Quando Quango,
Juan Atkins,
A Certain Ratio,
John Lydon,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Erasure,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slackers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lindisfarne,
Supertramp,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang Green,
Porter Ricks,
Tommy Roe,
Animal Collective,
Harry Pussy,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
F. McDonald,
Dual Sessions,
The Litter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Howard Jones,
Reagan Youth,
Lungfish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Flag,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.