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 Lebanon and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Shoche to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Masters at Work,
Amon Düül,
The Pop Group,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Vogues,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Excepter,
Grauzone,
The Dirtbombs,
The American Breed,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Inner City,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerri Chandler,
Stereo Dub,
Vainqueur,
The Walker Brothers,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Alphaville,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blossom Toes,
The Monochrome Set,
Sound Behaviour,
The Leaves,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Essential Logic,
Shoche,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Zapp,
Eurythmics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Knickerbockers,
Heaven 17,
Goldenarms,
Althea and Donna,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Germs,
Connie Case,
Carl Craig,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra,
Flash Fearless,
Metal Thangz,
PIL,
Byron Stingily,
Spoonie Gee,
Erykah Badu,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Birthday Party,
Ultravox,
Circle Jerks,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.