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 Bulgaria and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Blancmange,
Aswad,
B.T. Express,
Fad Gadget,
Danielle Patucci,
Derrick May,
Sugar Minott,
Monolake,
The Slits,
Althea and Donna,
Little Man,
Whodini,
Faraquet,
the Normal,
Byron Stingily,
Scientists,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lyres,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bill Wells,
Al Stewart,
Erasure,
Second Layer,
David Bowie,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Walker Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Fear,
OOIOO,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Christie,
Talk Talk,
Hot Snakes,
Brass Construction,
Tears for Fears,
Morten Harket,
Juan Atkins,
The Vogues,
Cymande,
Minor Threat,
Hardrive,
Cluster,
Yaz,
48th St. Collective,
The Wake,
the Bar-Kays,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sight & Sound,
Kas Product,
Jacques Brel,
The Modern Lovers,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
Q and Not U,
Sällskapet,
Warren Ellis,
Groovy Waters,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.