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 Algeria and from Taipei.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar 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 Tres Demented to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock 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?
Fela Kuti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Red Krayola,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gun Club,
Neu!,
Eddi Front,
Yellowson,
The Zeros,
Marine Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Goldenarms,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer,
Deadbeat,
The Index,
The Wake,
Lou Reed,
Ohio Players,
Cybotron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Blancmange,
B.T. Express,
This Heat,
Circle Jerks,
Marvin Gaye,
Agitation Free,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Velvet Underground,
Dennis Brown,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ice-T,
Royal Trux,
Niagra,
U.S. Maple,
Mark Hollis,
Pylon,
Public Enemy,
Slave,
Warsaw,
Skaos,
Minutemen,
DJ Style,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nik Kershaw,
Faust,
Babytalk,
ABBA,
Robert Wyatt,
Roy Ayers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
Al Stewart,
Cecil Taylor,
Magazine,
Joyce Sims,
Scion,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.