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 France and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ralphi Rosario to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Jesper Dahlback,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ten City,
Lalo Schifrin,
Iggy Pop,
Faraquet,
Gong,
Dennis Brown,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Neon Judgement,
Eden Ahbez,
Cluster,
Procol Harum,
Graham Central Station,
John Lydon,
Pulsallama,
Erasure,
ABBA,
DNA,
Lightning Bolt,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
New York Dolls,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Beau Brummels,
T.S.O.L.,
Alphaville,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fat Boys,
Patti Smith,
Jeff Lynne,
Supertramp,
Ohio Players,
the Bar-Kays,
Ituana,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Zapp,
The Searchers,
Yazoo,
The Vogues,
U.S. Maple,
Barrington Levy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Barbara Tucker,
Josef K,
Freddie Wadling,
Mo-Dettes,
Easy Going,
Scratch Acid,
The Last Poets,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jacques Brel,
Pagans,
Soft Machine,
Lakeside,
The American Breed,
Niagra,
Quando Quango,
Marc Almond,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.