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 New Zealand and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Angels of Light to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
David Bowie,
Fat Boys,
Technova,
Cal Tjader,
Mars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Hood,
Television,
The Angels of Light,
June Days,
Kaleidoscope,
Con Funk Shun,
Neil Young,
Symarip,
Lyres,
Barry Ungar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pole,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
World's Most,
B.T. Express,
The Mojo Men,
Country Teasers,
PIL,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Mary Jane Girls,
Archie Shepp,
Desert Stars,
Yellowson,
Bauhaus,
Outsiders,
Faraquet,
The Fire Engines,
Mo-Dettes,
Arab on Radar,
The Fortunes,
U.S. Maple,
Reagan Youth,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Normal,
Man Parrish,
The Human League,
Surgeon,
The Monochrome Set,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Anakelly,
Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Intrusion,
Marine Girls,
E-Dancer,
Dave Gahan,
Pantaleimon,
Morten Harket,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.