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 Mongolia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 X-Ray Spex to the grunge 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
The Offenders,
Lindisfarne,
Circle Jerks,
LL Cool J,
Faraquet,
F. McDonald,
ABC,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rapeman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Agitation Free,
Sex Pistols,
Camberwell Now,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gladiators,
Matthew Bourne,
the Swans,
Gabor Szabo,
Dorothy Ashby,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Swans,
Ultra Naté,
Von Mondo,
The Fall,
Minor Threat,
Harmonia,
Avey Tare,
Ronnie Foster,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Kinks,
Slick Rick,
B.T. Express,
New Age Steppers,
The Monochrome Set,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
Kayak,
The Sound,
T. Rex,
Boz Scaggs,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
Slave,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cybotron,
Marc Almond,
the Slits,
The Grass Roots,
The Busters,
Eve St. Jones,
Altered Images,
John Lydon,
Model 500,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Public Image Ltd.,
Radiohead,
The Star Department,
E-Dancer,
Scientists,
Joensuu 1685,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.