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 Comoros and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stooges to the electroclash 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pagans,
Eric Copeland,
the Soft Cell,
The Divine Comedy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
48th St. Collective,
Moebius,
The Tremeloes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ken Boothe,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
B.T. Express,
The Cure,
Excepter,
The Dead C,
Yusef Lateef,
Susan Cadogan,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chrome,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Juan Atkins,
Flipper,
the Germs,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Absolute Body Control,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Teasers,
the Slits,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Barracudas,
Duran Duran,
Bauhaus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bluetip,
Soulsonic Force,
Agent Orange,
Ponytail,
Terry Callier,
Circle Jerks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pole,
Faust,
X-101,
The Fortunes,
Lakeside,
Tropical Tobacco,
Andrew Hill,
Dual Sessions,
David Bowie,
Neil Young,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Girls At Our Best!,
Johnny Clarke,
AZ,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eli Mardock,
The Skatalites,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.