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 Luxembourg and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gong to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Slave,
Groovy Waters,
Guru Guru,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Audionom,
DNA,
Minny Pops,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Victims,
The Slits,
Thompson Twins,
Lightning Bolt,
Drexciya,
Maurizio,
L. Decosne,
Letta Mbulu,
Stiv Bators,
the Germs,
Grauzone,
Rhythm & Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
Tears for Fears,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Saccharine Trust,
Faust,
Jacob Miller,
Black Pus,
Moby Grape,
Warsaw,
David Axelrod,
T. Rex,
The Golliwogs,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eli Mardock,
the Normal,
Nick Fraelich,
John Foxx,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultravox,
The Moleskins,
Sparks,
Bill Wells,
Sun City Girls,
Charles Mingus,
The Monks,
Brick,
Quadrant,
The Detroit Cobras,
World's Most,
The Gories,
The Sonics,
The Cramps,
The Count Five,
Slick Rick,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fad Gadget,
Eric Dolphy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.