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 Costa Rica and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 rhodes 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 The Wake to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Banda Bassotti,
MDC,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nick Fraelich,
Tim Buckley,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sandy B,
Little Man,
Agitation Free,
Ten City,
Joe Finger,
Stockholm Monsters,
Guru Guru,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stereo Dub,
Soft Cell,
Ronnie Foster,
Neu!,
Funkadelic,
Harry Pussy,
Supertramp,
Monks,
Aswad,
Marmalade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Chris & Cosey,
the Swans,
The Tremeloes,
James White and The Blacks,
U.S. Maple,
Jacob Miller,
Erasure,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultra Naté,
Kerrie Biddell,
Japan,
Loose Ends,
The Golliwogs,
Scan 7,
T. Rex,
Au Pairs,
The Move,
The Alarm Clocks,
Arab on Radar,
The Gun Club,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harmonia,
Surgeon,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
Jeff Lynne,
Camberwell Now,
Man Eating Sloth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Archie Shepp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.