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 Nepal and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Sällskapet to the crunk 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters 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?
Ronan,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun City Girls,
Organ,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dead Boys,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stetsasonic,
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Eve St. Jones,
DNA,
Bobby Byrd,
David Bowie,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Derrick May,
Cecil Taylor,
The Young Rascals,
Unwound,
Funkadelic,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Crime,
Maleditus Sound,
Mandrill,
Nik Kershaw,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Hardrive,
Warsaw,
the Bar-Kays,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Black Sheep,
The Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
Faraquet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Judy Mowatt,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun Ra,
Wally Richardson,
The Mojo Men,
The Last Poets,
Silicon Teens,
Brothers Johnson,
Von Mondo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Slick Rick,
Grey Daturas,
Smog,
The Fortunes,
Public Enemy,
Terry Callier,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.