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 Luxembourg and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Germs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David Bowie,
Cal Tjader,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yellowson,
Vladislav Delay,
Moby Grape,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Max Romeo,
Public Enemy,
L. Decosne,
Ronnie Foster,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Khruangbin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Goldenarms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arcadia,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bronski Beat,
Ten City,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Guru Guru,
Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pop Group,
Fear,
Talk Talk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cheater Slicks,
The Five Americans,
Au Pairs,
Ludus,
Sex Pistols,
The Move,
Make Up,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Modern Lovers,
Dave Gahan,
Flipper,
Quadrant,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Rakim,
Camouflage,
Siglo XX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Monks,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.