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 Antigua and from Seoul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Technova to the rap 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
The Alarm Clocks,
Erasure,
John Foxx,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ossler,
Public Enemy,
Kurtis Blow,
Rites of Spring,
Terry Callier,
The Index,
K-Klass,
The Raincoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Make Up,
MDC,
Lou Christie,
DJ Style,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scott Walker,
Porter Ricks,
Sister Nancy,
Ken Boothe,
DJ Sneak,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gun Club,
Lindisfarne,
Inner City,
Average White Band,
Monks,
Rapeman,
Hasil Adkins,
Aaron Thompson,
Dave Gahan,
Bang On A Can,
Alton Ellis,
Nas,
Ice-T,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skaos,
Electric Prunes,
The Electric Prunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cure,
Unwound,
Funky Four + One,
Glenn Branca,
The Stooges,
Gerry Rafferty,
Quantec,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Tremeloes,
Wally Richardson,
Hardrive,
UT,
Rotary Connection,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.