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 Indonesia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ 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 Kerri Chandler to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
Model 500,
Chris & Cosey,
Al Stewart,
The Sound,
Surgeon,
Drexciya,
Duran Duran,
The Dead C,
Eve St. Jones,
Sugar Minott,
Funky Four + One,
The Smoke,
The Zeros,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Order,
Shoche,
Dennis Brown,
The Names,
Nick Fraelich,
Rotary Connection,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Selecter,
the Soft Cell,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Can,
The Monks,
Monolake,
Technova,
The Saints,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joe Smooth,
Steve Hackett,
The Cowsills,
Johnny Osbourne,
Graham Central Station,
ABBA,
Sam Rivers,
Donny Hathaway,
Lungfish,
Faust,
Outsiders,
The Gladiators,
Magazine,
The Real Kids,
Audionom,
the Slits,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Silicon Teens,
Bootsy Collins,
The Tremeloes,
MDC,
U.S. Maple,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Pantaleimon,
Bill Wells,
John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.