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 Comoros and from Jakarta.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cybotron to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Funkadelic,
The Music Machine,
Man Parrish,
Flamin' Groovies,
Freddie Wadling,
The American Breed,
Anakelly,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lakeside,
The Mummies,
Janne Schatter,
Maurizio,
The Gories,
Terry Callier,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Finger,
Warsaw,
Infiniti,
June Days,
Lucky Dragons,
The Victims,
Das Ding,
The Cowsills,
Icehouse,
Lower 48,
Kaleidoscope,
The Human League,
8 Eyed Spy,
The New Christs,
Brick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Pet Shop Boys,
Delon & Dalcan,
Hot Snakes,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David McCallum,
Arab on Radar,
Eric Dolphy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The United States of America,
Connie Case,
The Slackers,
Roxy Music,
Little Man,
Tears for Fears,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sight & Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Suburban Knight,
Camberwell Now,
The Wake,
Main Source,
Make Up,
Shuggie Otis,
Eli Mardock,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Joe Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.