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 Mozambique and from Cairo.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Goldenarms to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Andrew Hill,
Erasure,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
Wolf Eyes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Au Pairs,
Danielle Patucci,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Junior Murvin,
a-ha,
the Swans,
Michelle Simonal,
Subhumans,
Cecil Taylor,
Lindisfarne,
Erykah Badu,
Barrington Levy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Angry Samoans,
Iggy Pop,
Rufus Thomas,
Janne Schatter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Man Parrish,
Arthur Verocai,
Dave Gahan,
Wasted Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
Moss Icon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Surgeon,
The Busters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Average White Band,
Rakim,
Bobby Byrd,
Cheater Slicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bill Wells,
The Happenings,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cal Tjader,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Metal Thangz,
Country Teasers,
Quando Quango,
Archie Shepp,
Crispian St. Peters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.