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 Finland and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Eden Ahbez to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
K-Klass,
Mr. Review,
Von Mondo,
Byron Stingily,
Colin Newman,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ultravox,
Faraquet,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Durutti Column,
ABC,
The Kinks,
The Searchers,
Alphaville,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Osbourne,
Model 500,
KRS-One,
D'Angelo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
New York Dolls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joey Negro,
The Blackbyrds,
Sex Pistols,
The Walker Brothers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sun City Girls,
Nils Olav,
The Residents,
Crime,
The Martian,
Camouflage,
Fad Gadget,
Bobby Womack,
The Mojo Men,
cv313,
Tres Demented,
Archie Shepp,
Rod Modell,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hoover,
Pet Shop Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Guru Guru,
Grauzone,
Index,
The Associates,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fortunes,
Eli Mardock,
La Düsseldorf,
Basic Channel,
The Human League,
Dark Day,
Urselle,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.