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 Dominican Republic and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 A Certain Ratio to the electroclash 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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
F. McDonald,
ABBA,
Make Up,
Sex Pistols,
Kas Product,
Tubeway Army,
The Blackbyrds,
Lebanon Hanover,
Masters at Work,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grauzone,
the Swans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Divine Comedy,
Pantaleimon,
The Mummies,
Stereo Dub,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Doobie Brothers,
PIL,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Associates,
Roger Hodgson,
Godley & Creme,
David Bowie,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
The Victims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fugazi,
In Retrospect,
Flash Fearless,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott Heron,
Isaac Hayes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Cramps,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gladiators,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Popol Vuh,
Ponytail,
Joe Smooth,
Pierre Henry,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
Inner City,
The Slits,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Clarke,
Deepchord,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
Royal Trux,
The Count Five,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.