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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the sitar 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the funk 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Barbara Tucker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Doors,
Youth Brigade,
Faust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Arthur Verocai,
Matthew Bourne,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
Eric Dolphy,
Drexciya,
8 Eyed Spy,
Japan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Funkadelic,
Visage,
Boredoms,
In Retrospect,
The Fugs,
Wasted Youth,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Lynne,
X-Ray Spex,
Infiniti,
Section 25,
The Selecter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pole,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mantronix,
The Remains,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Audionom,
Cluster,
Ossler,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Radiohead,
Connie Case,
K-Klass,
The Leaves,
Tomorrow,
Warren Ellis,
Roxette,
Kayak,
Derrick May,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Names,
The Star Department,
the Bar-Kays,
Metal Thangz,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Soft Cell,
Sugar Minott,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
Todd Rundgren,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.