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 Liechtenstein and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Hot Snakes to the disco 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
The Motions,
Bush Tetras,
Bang On A Can,
Terrestrial Tones,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blues Magoos,
Kurtis Blow,
a-ha,
Mantronix,
The Mummies,
The Fuzztones,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Near,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brass Construction,
The Gories,
Harpers Bizarre,
Graham Central Station,
Traffic Nightmare,
Angry Samoans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eddi Front,
Whodini,
The Fire Engines,
Rod Modell,
the Sonics,
Organ,
Simply Red,
Reuben Wilson,
The Martian,
The Mojo Men,
The New Christs,
Throbbing Gristle,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Beau Brummels,
Television,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dead C,
Black Sheep,
Stereo Dub,
Jandek,
Soft Machine,
Spandau Ballet,
Joy Division,
Josef K,
June of 44,
Bad Manners,
Ossler,
The Associates,
Severed Heads,
Sam Rivers,
Hot Snakes,
Guru Guru,
Slave,
Yellowson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Janne Schatter,
Supertramp,
Donald Byrd,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.