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 Argentina and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Joe Smooth to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
Whodini,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arthur Verocai,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dawn Penn,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Angels of Light,
T.S.O.L.,
the Bar-Kays,
Ken Boothe,
Davy DMX,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Selecter,
D'Angelo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kayak,
Andrew Hill,
The Gun Club,
Blancmange,
Boredoms,
Mad Mike,
Aaron Thompson,
Magazine,
UT,
Scientists,
Man Parrish,
Graham Central Station,
The Slackers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scratch Acid,
Scion,
The Seeds,
The Velvet Underground,
Roger Hodgson,
Khruangbin,
The Real Kids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Darondo,
Minor Threat,
KRS-One,
Public Enemy,
Smog,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultra Naté,
Gang Green,
Jimmy McGriff,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sonics,
Eric Dolphy,
Nas,
Scrapy,
Pierre Henry,
The Gladiators,
Circle Jerks,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.