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 Tuvalu and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Andrew Hill to the techno 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Quadrant,
The Slackers,
The Remains,
Chris Corsano,
48th St. Collective,
Black Bananas,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
Adolescents,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader,
Bob Dylan,
Radio Birdman,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Wolf Eyes,
Stiv Bators,
The Divine Comedy,
the Germs,
Oblivians,
Hashim,
The Move,
Nik Kershaw,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Shuggie Otis,
Scientists,
Siglo XX,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
Theoretical Girls,
Negative Approach,
Iggy Pop,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sarah Menescal,
Agitation Free,
The Count Five,
The Durutti Column,
Soft Cell,
Black Sheep,
Gang of Four,
Isaac Hayes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mo-Dettes,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Soft Cell,
La Düsseldorf,
Motorama,
Marvin Gaye,
R.M.O.,
Steve Hackett,
Parry Music,
Kaleidoscope,
China Crisis,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.