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 Algeria and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Pagans to the grunge 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
MC5,
Soft Machine,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Durutti Column,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Warsaw,
Mission of Burma,
Bootsy Collins,
Arcadia,
Index,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Dolphy,
Rod Modell,
Todd Rundgren,
Funkadelic,
Tim Buckley,
Pantaleimon,
Glenn Branca,
Inner City,
China Crisis,
The Monochrome Set,
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Barracudas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Evens,
Moby Grape,
Nick Fraelich,
Sugar Minott,
The Knickerbockers,
The Motions,
Marc Almond,
Cameo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roger Hodgson,
The Happenings,
Eric Copeland,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Gabor Szabo,
Sister Nancy,
T.S.O.L.,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roy Ayers,
Main Source,
Grey Daturas,
FM Einheit,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Los Fastidios,
Masters at Work,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
James White and The Blacks,
Grauzone,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
DJ Sneak,
Archie Shepp,
Hoover,
Matthew Halsall,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.