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 Honduras and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Seoul.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the disco 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Wally Richardson,
Eric Copeland,
Jacob Miller,
Index,
The Dirtbombs,
Aswad,
Steve Hackett,
Bauhaus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
This Heat,
Davy DMX,
KRS-One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stiv Bators,
Los Fastidios,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Echospace,
Blake Baxter,
Malaria!,
The Skatalites,
Minor Threat,
Bush Tetras,
Sun City Girls,
The Standells,
Rufus Thomas,
The Modern Lovers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxette,
L. Decosne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Germs,
Spandau Ballet,
Shuggie Otis,
Jeff Mills,
Robert Hood,
Pet Shop Boys,
D'Angelo,
Crash Course in Science,
Matthew Bourne,
Cal Tjader,
David McCallum,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
Reagan Youth,
The Remains,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scion,
The Evens,
Quando Quango,
Roy Ayers,
Pylon,
Radiohead,
Zapp,
The Busters,
The United States of America,
The Gories,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
Kool Moe Dee,
Junior Murvin,
The Move,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.