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 Malawi and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer 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 Slave to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Crispian St. Peters,
New Order,
The J.B.'s,
Steve Hackett,
Jacques Brel,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
Slick Rick,
F. McDonald,
Juan Atkins,
Skarface,
Faust,
Anthony Braxton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gang of Four,
Livin' Joy,
Porter Ricks,
Rod Modell,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Bananas,
Peter & Gordon,
Yellowson,
Stiv Bators,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Hood,
The New Christs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Pop Group,
Eli Mardock,
Tom Boy,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Sherman,
Al Stewart,
Wire,
Patti Smith,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
David Bowie,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pretty Things,
FM Einheit,
John Holt,
MC5,
Maurizio,
Marc Almond,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sun City Girls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Matthew Halsall,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.