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 Vietnam and from Columbus.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tremeloes to the disco 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Matthew Halsall,
Jerry's Kids,
The Index,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joey Negro,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bronski Beat,
Blake Baxter,
The Doors,
The Golliwogs,
Sister Nancy,
Joy Division,
In Retrospect,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Pop Group,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dawn Penn,
R.M.O.,
Barbara Tucker,
Absolute Body Control,
Robert Wyatt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The New Christs,
Eric Copeland,
Arcadia,
Bill Near,
Skarface,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fela Kuti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heaven 17,
Flipper,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Monochrome Set,
DJ Sneak,
Quantec,
The Pretty Things,
Masters at Work,
Lower 48,
Kas Product,
Jeff Mills,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Livin' Joy,
Scientists,
Loose Ends,
Marshall Jefferson,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Dead C,
Johnny Clarke,
Ken Boothe,
Supertramp,
Mark Hollis,
Al Stewart,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Connie Case,
The Slits,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, 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.