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 Equatorial Guinea and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Barracudas to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Monks,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
ABC,
The Blues Magoos,
Public Image Ltd.,
Hashim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sam Rivers,
Cybotron,
The Monks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eric Dolphy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fuzztones,
John Cale,
Neu!,
The Monochrome Set,
The Evens,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
L. Decosne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mojo Men,
The Divine Comedy,
Connie Case,
Grey Daturas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Archie Shepp,
Erasure,
The Residents,
Rufus Thomas,
Brick,
The Misunderstood,
The Velvet Underground,
Isaac Hayes,
Eden Ahbez,
Spandau Ballet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yellowson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ituana,
Marmalade,
Fad Gadget,
The Fugs,
Marine Girls,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Robert Görl,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Music Machine,
Inner City,
Pylon,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Skriet,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.