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 Bahamas and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marc Almond to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Nils Olav,
Avey Tare,
Television,
L. Decosne,
Symarip,
Monolake,
Franke,
Deadbeat,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Angels of Light,
Harry Pussy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Germs,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gichy Dan,
Hasil Adkins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Qualms,
Pole,
Marc Almond,
Altered Images,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cybotron,
Sight & Sound,
Funky Four + One,
MC5,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Reed,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris & Cosey,
Los Fastidios,
Aaron Thompson,
Buzzcocks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Trojans,
Black Moon,
Colin Newman,
Duran Duran,
The Saints,
Bush Tetras,
Ituana,
The Last Poets,
Fela Kuti,
Godley & Creme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Animal Collective,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Foxx,
Youth Brigade,
The Residents,
Althea and Donna,
Moebius,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.