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 Bahamas and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 John Foxx to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Glenn Branca,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Byrd,
Moebius,
Lalann,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Funky Four + One,
Brand Nubian,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sugar Minott,
Barry Ungar,
Al Stewart,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Massinfluence,
Severed Heads,
Chris & Cosey,
Subhumans,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Blackbyrds,
Sex Pistols,
Bluetip,
Bill Wells,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
Slick Rick,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Parry Music,
The Cramps,
EPMD,
Donny Hathaway,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marvin Gaye,
Ice-T,
Piero Umiliani,
Crash Course in Science,
The Music Machine,
Arab on Radar,
Zapp,
Henry Cow,
DJ Style,
Q65,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kool Moe Dee,
Minor Threat,
Robert Hood,
The Slackers,
The Monks,
The Cure,
the Bar-Kays,
Technova,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Q and Not U,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Neon Judgement,
ABC,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jesper Dahlback,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.