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 Israel and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron 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 A Certain Ratio to the dance 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy 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?
Marvin Gaye,
June of 44,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Byrd,
10cc,
Althea and Donna,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scratch Acid,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gladiators,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Chrome,
The Neon Judgement,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joy Division,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Agent Orange,
China Crisis,
Deadbeat,
Jacques Brel,
Dead Boys,
Public Enemy,
JFA,
D'Angelo,
Nick Fraelich,
Josef K,
Jawbox,
Liliput,
Alice Coltrane,
The Stooges,
Barbara Tucker,
Neil Young,
Ohio Players,
48th St. Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
Godley & Creme,
Monks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DJ Sneak,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alton Ellis,
Mr. Review,
Soul II Soul,
Sex Pistols,
Excepter,
Lucky Dragons,
Bauhaus,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
Donald Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
The Fuzztones,
Arcadia,
World's Most,
Todd Rundgren,
Tres Demented,
Easy Going,
Rites of Spring,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dave Gahan,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.