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 Papua New Guinea and from Halifax.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Divine Comedy to the rap 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Spandau Ballet,
U.S. Maple,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Victims,
Can,
Crispian St. Peters,
Public Image Ltd.,
New Age Steppers,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Absolute Body Control,
The Count Five,
Bootsy Collins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Frankie Knuckles,
Section 25,
The Martian,
The Busters,
Chris Corsano,
Andrew Hill,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Little Man,
Glenn Branca,
CMW,
Von Mondo,
The Moody Blues,
Rapeman,
Nas,
Bobby Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gun Club,
Harmonia,
Loose Ends,
T.S.O.L.,
Skriet,
Livin' Joy,
Magazine,
Leonard Cohen,
The Music Machine,
David Axelrod,
Kenny Larkin,
Barbara Tucker,
Index,
The Motions,
Soft Cell,
Icehouse,
Avey Tare,
Skaos,
Masters at Work,
Derrick May,
Roxette,
Drexciya,
Yaz,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Patti Smith,
The Offenders,
Adolescents,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.