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 Tunisia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Birthday Party to the rock 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alphaville record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
B.T. Express,
Symarip,
Ohio Players,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hot Snakes,
Newcleus,
The Associates,
The Red Krayola,
Scratch Acid,
T. Rex,
Interpol,
the Association,
Bluetip,
Crooked Eye,
Absolute Body Control,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Victims,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Last Poets,
Alphaville,
Royal Trux,
Theoretical Girls,
Moss Icon,
Unrelated Segments,
Panda Bear,
The Birthday Party,
Rapeman,
L. Decosne,
Chris & Cosey,
Technova,
Excepter,
The Flesh Eaters,
Con Funk Shun,
Neil Young,
Joe Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kerri Chandler,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Accadde A,
Steve Hackett,
Second Layer,
The American Breed,
Terry Callier,
Maleditus Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Bar-Kays,
Sällskapet,
Black Sheep,
Mandrill,
The Vogues,
The Human League,
Alice Coltrane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Don Cherry,
Massinfluence,
David Bowie,
Barrington Levy,
Amon Düül II,
The Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Ice-T,
Scott Walker,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.