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 Syria and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the jazz 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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warsaw,
Harpers Bizarre,
Inner City,
Terrestrial Tones,
Index,
The Searchers,
Jawbox,
Swans,
Scrapy,
Magazine,
Mr. Review,
Glambeats Corp.,
CMW,
Ken Boothe,
Scion,
The Cure,
Cluster,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Womack,
Lungfish,
Mars,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
The Gories,
Interpol,
The Doors,
Patti Smith,
Wings,
T. Rex,
Nik Kershaw,
Wally Richardson,
Fad Gadget,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joyce Sims,
Skarface,
Eve St. Jones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Moon,
Lower 48,
Donny Hathaway,
Joey Negro,
Aural Exciters,
Lightning Bolt,
Tim Buckley,
Clear Light,
The Gladiators,
Altered Images,
Aloha Tigers,
Derrick Morgan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Derrick May,
Faust,
Black Sheep,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.