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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Whodini to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty 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 dance 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Dead Boys,
Pierre Henry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Soft Cell,
The Tremeloes,
Warsaw,
Derrick Morgan,
The Index,
Rapeman,
Bob Dylan,
The Moody Blues,
Brothers Johnson,
The Names,
Pantaleimon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Sherman,
Susan Cadogan,
Bluetip,
The Skatalites,
Girls At Our Best!,
Junior Murvin,
Bauhaus,
Moebius,
The Divine Comedy,
Rod Modell,
MDC,
Isaac Hayes,
Darondo,
T. Rex,
The Remains,
Sandy B,
Rosa Yemen,
Au Pairs,
Altered Images,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tom Boy,
World's Most,
Lou Reed,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scientists,
Barbara Tucker,
Adolescents,
Half Japanese,
Delon & Dalcan,
Morten Harket,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rites of Spring,
Joyce Sims,
Quadrant,
The Walker Brothers,
Outsiders,
Excepter,
Babytalk,
Dave Gahan,
Essential Logic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terry Callier,
Tears for Fears,
The Doobie Brothers,
ABC,
Icehouse,
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.