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 Turkmenistan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer 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 Dorothy Ashby to the dance 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Gong,
Bronski Beat,
Scion,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rod Modell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Harmonia,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blossom Toes,
Negative Approach,
Crime,
Underground Resistance,
The Pop Group,
Freddie Wadling,
Sandy B,
Fugazi,
Chrome,
The Sonics,
The Fortunes,
John Foxx,
Yellowson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sixth Finger,
The Tremeloes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Flipper,
Fifty Foot Hose,
CMW,
These Immortal Souls,
Camouflage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Little Man,
Newcleus,
Pierre Henry,
Royal Trux,
Cymande,
Lightning Bolt,
Piero Umiliani,
Outsiders,
Joe Finger,
Faust,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Frankie Knuckles,
Monolake,
Flash Fearless,
The Fall,
The Monks,
Bootsy Collins,
Ornette Coleman,
The Angels of Light,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.