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 Angola and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Godley & Creme to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Parry Music,
Deadbeat,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Stereo Dub,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Star Department,
Kevin Saunderson,
Hot Snakes,
Hasil Adkins,
Todd Rundgren,
Procol Harum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Can,
Agent Orange,
Excepter,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doors,
Arthur Verocai,
Ituana,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bad Manners,
Rod Modell,
Tom Boy,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mummies,
Amon Düül II,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Gang Dance,
Shoche,
Black Moon,
Marc Almond,
Soft Cell,
Surgeon,
Lungfish,
Kas Product,
Marshall Jefferson,
These Immortal Souls,
Rapeman,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Gun Club,
Mars,
World's Most,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Skatalites,
John Lydon,
Morten Harket,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Slick Rick,
Q and Not U,
Silicon Teens,
Hoover,
Smog,
Black Flag,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joey Negro,
D'Angelo,
Wire,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.