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 Belgium and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare 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 Mandrill to the punk 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Fania All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skriet,
Brand Nubian,
Rosa Yemen,
Marshall Jefferson,
Roxette,
Public Enemy,
John Holt,
Shoche,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harry Pussy,
Bob Dylan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
China Crisis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Neil Young,
The Raincoats,
Connie Case,
The Searchers,
Donny Hathaway,
The Alarm Clocks,
a-ha,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Young Marble Giants,
Dave Gahan,
Lucky Dragons,
Howard Jones,
Heaven 17,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ash Ra Tempel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Symarip,
Deepchord,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
David Axelrod,
Theoretical Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Babytalk,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lakeside,
Camouflage,
Wasted Youth,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang of Four,
Grey Daturas,
Terry Callier,
Rites of Spring,
Mary Jane Girls,
Franke,
Infiniti,
Deadbeat,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.