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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 L. Decosne to the rap 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
OOIOO,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Connie Case,
New Order,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sex Pistols,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Almond,
Kenny Larkin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Skarface,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rod Modell,
Scrapy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moleskins,
Swans,
Rites of Spring,
Metal Thangz,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bluetip,
Altered Images,
The Zeros,
Kas Product,
Whodini,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Rundgren,
The Real Kids,
Supertramp,
Toni Rubio,
Magma,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pantytec,
Faraquet,
Eve St. Jones,
Sarah Menescal,
Model 500,
The Fugs,
The Fall,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spandau Ballet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eddi Front,
Flash Fearless,
Chris Corsano,
CMW,
The Five Americans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vainqueur,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fad Gadget,
Audionom,
Q65,
The Velvet Underground,
Con Funk Shun,
Josef K,
Minnie Riperton,
Sister Nancy,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.