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 Russia and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
China Crisis,
Absolute Body Control,
Soul Sonic Force,
Silicon Teens,
D'Angelo,
Wolf Eyes,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Janne Schatter,
Andrew Hill,
Yellowson,
Neil Young,
Minny Pops,
Skarface,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lightning Bolt,
Talk Talk,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Agent Orange,
Jeff Mills,
The Offenders,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Max Romeo,
Ice-T,
John Coltrane,
Rapeman,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Rundgren,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Judy Mowatt,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boredoms,
Eddi Front,
Arab on Radar,
Sex Pistols,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ultra Naté,
Reagan Youth,
Tres Demented,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Minnie Riperton,
Franke,
Dark Day,
Tears for Fears,
Urselle,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fugs,
Maurizio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grey Daturas,
ABC,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Spandau Ballet,
Audionom,
the Soft Cell,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.