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 Kazakhstan and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Last Poets to the dance 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
In Retrospect,
Cluster,
Tommy Roe,
Suburban Knight,
The Black Dice,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
AZ,
Main Source,
Bluetip,
Cal Tjader,
Lakeside,
kango's stein massive,
Flash Fearless,
Erykah Badu,
Nirvana,
The Red Krayola,
Eddi Front,
David McCallum,
Brass Construction,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kayak,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Motions,
the Slits,
Anakelly,
Hot Snakes,
ABBA,
Joy Division,
Eli Mardock,
Trumans Water,
T.S.O.L.,
Kenny Larkin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Public Enemy,
KRS-One,
Bush Tetras,
Boz Scaggs,
Intrusion,
The Monks,
Prince Buster,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quantec,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Liliput,
Jacques Brel,
Vainqueur,
Livin' Joy,
The Doors,
Swans,
Organ,
Boredoms,
Television,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.