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 Cambodia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Duran Duran to the jazz 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Donald Byrd,
A Certain Ratio,
Moss Icon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bang On A Can,
The Human League,
John Holt,
Jimmy McGriff,
Royal Trux,
The Black Dice,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Pulsallama,
Arab on Radar,
Jandek,
Suicide,
Brand Nubian,
Susan Cadogan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Junior Murvin,
Tubeway Army,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Five Americans,
Popol Vuh,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kenny Larkin,
The Last Poets,
The Barracudas,
Echospace,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cymande,
Connie Case,
Dual Sessions,
Howard Jones,
Crash Course in Science,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Association,
Joensuu 1685,
Kerrie Biddell,
Stiv Bators,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
10cc,
Radio Birdman,
Ituana,
The Mojo Men,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Japan,
Erasure,
Gang Green,
The Slits,
The Smiths,
Marine Girls,
Max Romeo,
The Techniques,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.