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 Nauru and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Masters at Work to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Erykah Badu,
Echospace,
Zapp,
a-ha,
Archie Shepp,
Unrelated Segments,
Eddi Front,
Lungfish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mars,
Sun City Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Graham Central Station,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kerri Chandler,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
Skarface,
Curtis Mayfield,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Moody Blues,
Tres Demented,
This Heat,
Ken Boothe,
Black Moon,
Pulsallama,
the Association,
John Foxx,
Sonny Sharrock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scan 7,
Audionom,
OOIOO,
The Litter,
Boz Scaggs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
London Community Gospel Choir,
E-Dancer,
Sällskapet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New Order,
Byron Stingily,
Anakelly,
Deepchord,
Joy Division,
Gong,
Jeff Lynne,
The Seeds,
Albert Ayler,
Hashim,
The Red Krayola,
Icehouse,
World's Most,
cv313,
The Raincoats,
Whodini,
Supertramp,
Wolf Eyes,
Severed Heads,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.