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 Kazakhstan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar 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 Brand Nubian to the grime 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Aloha Tigers,
Con Funk Shun,
Model 500,
Oblivians,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mojo Men,
Joe Smooth,
Swell Maps,
Dead Boys,
Youth Brigade,
Simply Red,
Marmalade,
Boredoms,
Donald Byrd,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Saints,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Japan,
Q and Not U,
The Durutti Column,
Amazonics,
Boz Scaggs,
The Invisible,
the Normal,
Flash Fearless,
Bronski Beat,
Roger Hodgson,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Gabor Szabo,
In Retrospect,
Quantec,
48th St. Collective,
Ken Boothe,
Hashim,
Nik Kershaw,
Scrapy,
Monolake,
The Kinks,
Nico,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispian St. Peters,
Saccharine Trust,
Grey Daturas,
the Sonics,
Maurizio,
The Fire Engines,
Man Parrish,
Pantytec,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
Average White Band,
Bad Manners,
KRS-One,
T.S.O.L.,
Moebius,
The Alarm Clocks,
Slick Rick,
a-ha,
The Wake,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.