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 Lebanon and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 United States of America to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
OOIOO,
Sparks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Anakelly,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
June of 44,
Ohio Players,
Al Stewart,
The Gories,
Grey Daturas,
The Trojans,
Bush Tetras,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Evens,
Glenn Branca,
Carl Craig,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gun Club,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hashim,
Dave Gahan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Chris & Cosey,
Con Funk Shun,
Warsaw,
The Leaves,
Davy DMX,
Minor Threat,
The Gladiators,
Severed Heads,
Connie Case,
R.M.O.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Stooges,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Technova,
The Techniques,
Gichy Dan,
Lightning Bolt,
Masters at Work,
Quantec,
Fear,
Mantronix,
DNA,
Derrick Morgan,
Rakim,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Vogues,
The Misunderstood,
Wings,
Camouflage,
Sex Pistols,
The Birthday Party,
Half Japanese,
Cabaret Voltaire,
June Days,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.