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 Togo and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manila.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Modern Lovers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Guru Guru,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Subhumans,
Zapp,
Tres Demented,
Colin Newman,
Ituana,
DJ Sneak,
Sound Behaviour,
Bootsy Collins,
Depeche Mode,
Aaron Thompson,
the Germs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Young Marble Giants,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Man Parrish,
Eurythmics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nico,
The Music Machine,
Lightning Bolt,
Robert Hood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radio Birdman,
L. Decosne,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ornette Coleman,
David McCallum,
Japan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Arcadia,
Marine Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Prince Buster,
Eric Copeland,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses,
D'Angelo,
The Selecter,
Mark Hollis,
La Düsseldorf,
The Misunderstood,
X-102,
The Cure,
DNA,
Adolescents,
Davy DMX,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Arab on Radar,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Judy Mowatt,
Terry Callier,
H. Thieme,
Organ,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.