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 Kyrgyzstan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the rock 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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
the Normal,
Archie Shepp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mr. Review,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tres Demented,
10cc,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ice-T,
Lou Christie,
Bad Manners,
The Count Five,
Nirvana,
Siglo XX,
The Dead C,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deadbeat,
Porter Ricks,
The Happenings,
Fad Gadget,
Alphaville,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Pretty Things,
Accadde A,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Smiths,
Warren Ellis,
Roxy Music,
Suburban Knight,
Gang Green,
Country Teasers,
Pagans,
Black Moon,
Glenn Branca,
Magma,
The Young Rascals,
Morten Harket,
D'Angelo,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Soul Sonic Force,
Delta 5,
Make Up,
Traffic Nightmare,
Y Pants,
the Bar-Kays,
The Busters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fugazi,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quando Quango,
Barclay James Harvest,
Boredoms,
Nils Olav,
Bobby Sherman,
Quantec,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.