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 Romania and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blossom Toes to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Heaven 17,
The Grass Roots,
Letta Mbulu,
Lucky Dragons,
The Durutti Column,
Ossler,
Wolf Eyes,
Cybotron,
The Victims,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rekid,
Ponytail,
The Human League,
Althea and Donna,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Technova,
Black Sheep,
Oneida,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pylon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Johnny Osbourne,
New Age Steppers,
The Martian,
Drive Like Jehu,
La Düsseldorf,
Agitation Free,
T.S.O.L.,
Marc Almond,
T. Rex,
Radio Birdman,
The Residents,
James Chance & The Contortions,
John Holt,
Pagans,
The Detroit Cobras,
James White and The Blacks,
Rites of Spring,
This Heat,
Fear,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Pulsallama,
Second Layer,
Duran Duran,
Model 500,
Jesper Dahlback,
Saccharine Trust,
DJ Style,
Anakelly,
Pharoah Sanders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arcadia,
The Slackers,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Hardrive,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.