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 Palau and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Minnie Riperton to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Liliput,
Arthur Verocai,
Jacob Miller,
Malaria!,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Intrusion,
T. Rex,
Rosa Yemen,
Ornette Coleman,
Model 500,
Flash Fearless,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Country Teasers,
Y Pants,
Fear,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Buzzcocks,
Laurel Aitken,
Negative Approach,
X-Ray Spex,
Robert Görl,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cal Tjader,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Fad Gadget,
Donny Hathaway,
Alice Coltrane,
ABC,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Mummies,
Gong,
The Buckinghams,
One Last Wish,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cure,
Khruangbin,
Nas,
The Smiths,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Desert Stars,
John Lydon,
Ultra Naté,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mr. Review,
In Retrospect,
A Certain Ratio,
Scan 7,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mars,
the Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Brass Construction,
The Gap Band,
Procol Harum,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.