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 Kiribati and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Accra.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 The Gladiators to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Bananas,
The Move,
Bill Wells,
Connie Case,
Roy Ayers,
Theoretical Girls,
Bob Dylan,
Sound Behaviour,
Harry Pussy,
Pulsallama,
The Kinks,
Susan Cadogan,
Pylon,
Alton Ellis,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Red Krayola,
Wings,
Japan,
Deakin,
Zero Boys,
The Blues Magoos,
the Sonics,
Joensuu 1685,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cramps,
Niagra,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
The Slits,
Ten City,
Lebanon Hanover,
Livin' Joy,
The Standells,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bush Tetras,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Busters,
DNA,
Stereo Dub,
Lower 48,
James White and The Blacks,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Hill,
The Gap Band,
Rites of Spring,
The Cure,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Young Rascals,
Vainqueur,
Eli Mardock,
Magma,
Camberwell Now,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Smoke,
Pole,
Malaria!,
John Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.