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 Cape Verde and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Lou Reed 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Duran Duran,
A Certain Ratio,
John Coltrane,
Interpol,
Lalo Schifrin,
Blossom Toes,
Chris Corsano,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fall,
Slick Rick,
The Doors,
The Birthday Party,
Liliput,
The Trojans,
Minor Threat,
Ultra Naté,
Q and Not U,
Rakim,
The Stooges,
Bobby Sherman,
Skriet,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soft Cell,
The Five Americans,
Roy Ayers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Happenings,
The Durutti Column,
John Foxx,
The Zeros,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nas,
Jeru the Damaja,
kango's stein massive,
Main Source,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
the Swans,
The Neon Judgement,
Oneida,
The Tremeloes,
Pole,
Tommy Roe,
The Walker Brothers,
Drexciya,
Minnie Riperton,
Mars,
Minny Pops,
Lucky Dragons,
Supertramp,
Black Sheep,
Blake Baxter,
Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
World's Most,
Darondo,
Barrington Levy,
Alice Coltrane,
Joe Smooth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.