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 Mexico and from Lille.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ronnie Foster to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Main Source,
Flipper,
Slave,
X-101,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
AZ,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eli Mardock,
Liliput,
DNA,
Brand Nubian,
The Star Department,
The Dirtbombs,
Ken Boothe,
Dead Boys,
Gichy Dan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Yaz,
John Foxx,
Arcadia,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Names,
Sixth Finger,
Outsiders,
Yazoo,
The Angels of Light,
The Fuzztones,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ohio Players,
Severed Heads,
Ice-T,
New Order,
John Lydon,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Music Machine,
Public Image Ltd.,
X-Ray Spex,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Bootsy Collins,
The Slits,
Goldenarms,
Hoover,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dark Day,
Underground Resistance,
Icehouse,
The Trojans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marine Girls,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.