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 Austria and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marine Girls,
Black Pus,
Slick Rick,
Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
Chrome,
Crispian St. Peters,
Second Layer,
Colin Newman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marc Almond,
Erasure,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Black Dice,
Bang On A Can,
Lou Christie,
Angry Samoans,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
June of 44,
Joensuu 1685,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Peter and Kerry,
Surgeon,
Robert Wyatt,
Mars,
Sixth Finger,
Erykah Badu,
Index,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rites of Spring,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hot Snakes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantaleimon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
48th St. Collective,
Vainqueur,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gong,
Ituana,
Howard Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Loose Ends,
Easy Going,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
The Pretty Things,
The Index,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Names,
Porter Ricks,
The American Breed,
Pulsallama,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.