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 Afghanistan and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tom Boy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
the Human League,
Yusef Lateef,
The Martian,
Severed Heads,
The Fire Engines,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sandy B,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bronski Beat,
Kenny Larkin,
Oblivians,
Harry Pussy,
the Sonics,
ABBA,
Monks,
Kerri Chandler,
The United States of America,
Todd Terry,
Fela Kuti,
The Durutti Column,
Oneida,
Ronan,
Godley & Creme,
The Happenings,
Avey Tare,
Eddi Front,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Fania All-Stars,
Symarip,
Talk Talk,
Chris Corsano,
Radiohead,
Parry Music,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
June of 44,
Tres Demented,
Albert Ayler,
Whodini,
Slave,
The Neon Judgement,
Accadde A,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rapeman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Soft Cell,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Barbara Tucker,
The Music Machine,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pierre Henry,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster,
T.S.O.L.,
Von Mondo,
Magma,
John Coltrane,
Delta 5,
Angry Samoans,
Alton Ellis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.