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 Delhi.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 güiro 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 Rufus Thomas to the disco 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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Eurythmics,
Essential Logic,
Boz Scaggs,
The Tremeloes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Music Machine,
Fat Boys,
Sparks,
Brick,
Kaleidoscope,
H. Thieme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Josef K,
Crash Course in Science,
Gabor Szabo,
Adolescents,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sam Rivers,
The Young Rascals,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eve St. Jones,
Banda Bassotti,
JFA,
James White and The Blacks,
Bronski Beat,
Blossom Toes,
The Vogues,
Con Funk Shun,
Zapp,
Harmonia,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
Whodini,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Walker Brothers,
Maurizio,
Rakim,
Silicon Teens,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
Index,
Dead Boys,
The Barracudas,
Wally Richardson,
The Pop Group,
DNA,
Cheater Slicks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Germs,
The Martian,
Liliput,
Television,
Robert Hood,
Ludus,
Icehouse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cymande,
Cal Tjader,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.