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 Tuvalu and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba 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 The Cowsills to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zero Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
Scientists,
Eden Ahbez,
Mr. Review,
UT,
Cabaret Voltaire,
F. McDonald,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Jacques Brel,
Steve Hackett,
Ultravox,
Cameo,
The Angels of Light,
X-102,
Black Flag,
Mark Hollis,
Skriet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Blackbyrds,
Technova,
Terry Callier,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pierre Henry,
Section 25,
K-Klass,
Morten Harket,
Eurythmics,
the Sonics,
Todd Rundgren,
Drexciya,
The Doors,
Judy Mowatt,
David Axelrod,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Sherman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marc Almond,
The Names,
Skarface,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Index,
Marine Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Maurizio,
The Happenings,
The Martian,
Depeche Mode,
Pet Shop Boys,
Subhumans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Moebius,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Siglo XX,
Amazonics,
The Litter,
Don Cherry,
Toni Rubio,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.