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 Lebanon and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 the Human League to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Lightning Bolt,
Pantaleimon,
Black Bananas,
Schoolly D,
Warsaw,
Eli Mardock,
Delon & Dalcan,
Slick Rick,
The Gladiators,
James White and The Blacks,
Skarface,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tears for Fears,
DNA,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
Index,
Inner City,
Clear Light,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
Boredoms,
Bobby Sherman,
Drexciya,
Funkadelic,
Brick,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Basic Channel,
The Divine Comedy,
Mo-Dettes,
Urselle,
Theoretical Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
DJ Style,
The Last Poets,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amazonics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nirvana,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nico,
Technova,
Negative Approach,
Steve Hackett,
Kayak,
Crispian St. Peters,
Khruangbin,
The Cowsills,
Man Parrish,
T.S.O.L.,
The Slits,
Ronnie Foster,
Max Romeo,
Aswad,
the Soft Cell,
Lungfish,
The Dead C,
Ornette Coleman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.