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 Nigeria and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Alison Limerick to the punk 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Aural Exciters,
Janne Schatter,
Rekid,
Scientists,
The Monochrome Set,
The Gories,
Black Bananas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fela Kuti,
Slave,
The Young Rascals,
Hoover,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Smiths,
Talk Talk,
Saccharine Trust,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Pantaleimon,
Jawbox,
Darondo,
Gang Gang Dance,
Massinfluence,
Mr. Review,
Blancmange,
Rosa Yemen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sun City Girls,
Swans,
Rod Modell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brick,
Trumans Water,
Ultravox,
Fear,
Henry Cow,
Dawn Penn,
Agent Orange,
Jacob Miller,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Reed,
Pere Ubu,
The Cowsills,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tom Boy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Ice-T,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sandy B,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Buzzcocks,
Donald Byrd,
Angry Samoans,
Gang Green,
Half Japanese,
New York Dolls,
Audionom,
The Neon Judgement,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.