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 El Salvador and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fortunes to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
The Modern Lovers,
Fela Kuti,
The Fire Engines,
A Certain Ratio,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Dead C,
Surgeon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Q and Not U,
Bill Wells,
Marmalade,
Suicide,
Banda Bassotti,
This Heat,
ABC,
Minnie Riperton,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nick Fraelich,
Tomorrow,
the Human League,
Basic Channel,
Saccharine Trust,
Robert Hood,
Graham Central Station,
Boredoms,
Bronski Beat,
Bauhaus,
Bluetip,
Pantytec,
Freddie Wadling,
Marvin Gaye,
Lucky Dragons,
Throbbing Gristle,
Amon Düül,
The Pop Group,
Barrington Levy,
Dark Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Real Kids,
FM Einheit,
Eric Dolphy,
Radio Birdman,
Matthew Bourne,
cv313,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Accadde A,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stiv Bators,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Parrish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Durutti Column,
Spandau Ballet,
the Germs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Motorama,
The Saints,
Blossom Toes,
The Martian,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.