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 Botswana and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Misunderstood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
The United States of America,
Patti Smith,
Eddi Front,
Livin' Joy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scratch Acid,
Amazonics,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ken Boothe,
Man Parrish,
Boredoms,
Clear Light,
Traffic Nightmare,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Little Man,
Basic Channel,
Ornette Coleman,
The Durutti Column,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mandrill,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cramps,
Chris & Cosey,
Alice Coltrane,
The Litter,
Skriet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Symarip,
Steve Hackett,
Half Japanese,
The Doobie Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
The Victims,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Monolake,
Sex Pistols,
Mantronix,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang Gang Dance,
Procol Harum,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Letta Mbulu,
Johnny Clarke,
Urselle,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Max Romeo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Monks,
Hoover,
The Knickerbockers,
Mission of Burma,
The J.B.'s,
The Smiths,
Rites of Spring,
Kurtis Blow,
the Soft Cell,
A Flock of Seagulls,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.