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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Joe Smooth to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bill Wells,
Panda Bear,
DJ Sneak,
Eric B and Rakim,
World's Most,
Intrusion,
Marvin Gaye,
Johnny Clarke,
The Trojans,
the Swans,
Metal Thangz,
Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oneida,
The Invisible,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Warren Ellis,
The Tremeloes,
The Mummies,
This Heat,
The Monks,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Move,
Laurel Aitken,
Joe Finger,
Youth Brigade,
Nik Kershaw,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
ABBA,
PIL,
Roy Ayers,
Funkadelic,
FM Einheit,
Sight & Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Swell Maps,
Dark Day,
Vainqueur,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Busters,
Mars,
Flash Fearless,
The Star Department,
Man Parrish,
Byron Stingily,
Little Man,
Scan 7,
Smog,
Pantaleimon,
the Soft Cell,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Josef K,
Motorama,
Skarface,
The Searchers,
Gabor Szabo,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.