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 Mali and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Cramps to the funk 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
These Immortal Souls,
D'Angelo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Prince Buster,
Zapp,
DJ Sneak,
Nirvana,
The Gories,
Curtis Mayfield,
Theoretical Girls,
John Lydon,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Pus,
AZ,
Wally Richardson,
The Moody Blues,
DNA,
Aloha Tigers,
Fluxion,
Sam Rivers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blancmange,
Warren Ellis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Toni Rubio,
Howard Jones,
Max Romeo,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Human League,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chris & Cosey,
The Vogues,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Das Ding,
The Human League,
Ohio Players,
Vladislav Delay,
Donny Hathaway,
Subhumans,
Man Parrish,
Symarip,
Henry Cow,
8 Eyed Spy,
Iggy Pop,
Ituana,
The Names,
Slick Rick,
kango's stein massive,
Goldenarms,
Black Sheep,
Cluster,
Dark Day,
Procol Harum,
L. Decosne,
World's Most,
The Buckinghams,
John Coltrane,
Drexciya,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.