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 Saudi Arabia and from Sao Paulo.
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 Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 This Heat to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Howard Jones,
X-Ray Spex,
Matthew Bourne,
Michelle Simonal,
The Techniques,
Kurtis Blow,
Roger Hodgson,
Eric Copeland,
Das Ding,
Rapeman,
Joey Negro,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
Bill Near,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed,
Janne Schatter,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scan 7,
This Heat,
Eddi Front,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun City Girls,
The Offenders,
Brass Construction,
Pantytec,
Bill Wells,
Buzzcocks,
Supertramp,
Radio Birdman,
Sun Ra,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Boz Scaggs,
Archie Shepp,
Al Stewart,
Eden Ahbez,
Amon Düül II,
The Red Krayola,
Sixth Finger,
Jacob Miller,
Shoche,
World's Most,
The Victims,
Scientists,
Gang Green,
Albert Ayler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Axelrod,
A Certain Ratio,
The Five Americans,
Dennis Brown,
Mantronix,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magma,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Groovy Waters,
Black Sheep,
Sugar Minott,
Carl Craig,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.