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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Camouflage to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Raincoats,
Desert Stars,
Fatback Band,
The Skatalites,
Absolute Body Control,
Alphaville,
Scan 7,
PIL,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Green,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Talk Talk,
the Normal,
Los Fastidios,
New York Dolls,
Visage,
Flamin' Groovies,
Silicon Teens,
F. McDonald,
Duran Duran,
Minnie Riperton,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erasure,
Reagan Youth,
Bronski Beat,
The Gap Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Black Dice,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Clarke,
the Slits,
Crime,
X-102,
Toni Rubio,
Warren Ellis,
Mission of Burma,
Hasil Adkins,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
The Smiths,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Henry Cow,
The Vogues,
Kayak,
The Fire Engines,
Blancmange,
A Flock of Seagulls,
T. Rex,
John Foxx,
Au Pairs,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
Robert Wyatt,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.