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 Czech Republic and from Manila.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Jesper Dahlback,
Barry Ungar,
The Blackbyrds,
DNA,
Derrick May,
Circle Jerks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aswad,
Avey Tare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scott Walker,
Dual Sessions,
Albert Ayler,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Joe Smooth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Eurythmics,
David Axelrod,
Magazine,
The Sound,
Popol Vuh,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The American Breed,
The Gun Club,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Cybotron,
ABC,
Television,
Rufus Thomas,
Colin Newman,
Simply Red,
Cameo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Brand Nubian,
Skarface,
Shuggie Otis,
Scientists,
Curtis Mayfield,
Amazonics,
Quantec,
Minny Pops,
Barclay James Harvest,
China Crisis,
the Slits,
Deadbeat,
10cc,
The Dead C,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Neu!,
Sparks,
KRS-One,
Babytalk,
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Con Funk Shun,
The Detroit Cobras,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.