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 Ghana and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Pus,
Big Daddy Kane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
R.M.O.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Skriet,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Remains,
Au Pairs,
The Slits,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
Heaven 17,
Nils Olav,
Lou Christie,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Tommy Roe,
Al Stewart,
Soulsonic Force,
Nico,
Don Cherry,
Colin Newman,
Zero Boys,
Pantytec,
Basic Channel,
The Smoke,
Byron Stingily,
Yaz,
Visage,
Scratch Acid,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
Procol Harum,
Patti Smith,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
X-Ray Spex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Barry Ungar,
Bluetip,
Hardrive,
Ronan,
Peter & Gordon,
Adolescents,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Beau Brummels,
Wings,
The Techniques,
Minnie Riperton,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.