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 Iraq and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Howard Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
The Count Five,
Y Pants,
Symarip,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Alton Ellis,
Boz Scaggs,
Carl Craig,
Index,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Delta 5,
The Real Kids,
Davy DMX,
Aaron Thompson,
Basic Channel,
Fad Gadget,
Agent Orange,
Derrick May,
Pole,
Joe Smooth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Divine Comedy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Archie Shepp,
Iggy Pop,
Isaac Hayes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Black Dice,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Bar-Kays,
U.S. Maple,
Severed Heads,
Arcadia,
L. Decosne,
Public Enemy,
Jacques Brel,
The Mummies,
In Retrospect,
Al Stewart,
Zapp,
Dennis Brown,
Hashim,
Yazoo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mr. Review,
Patti Smith,
Cymande,
Jawbox,
The Birthday Party,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.