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 Samoa and from London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 David Bowie to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Ornette Coleman,
Hasil Adkins,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rod Modell,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare,
Groovy Waters,
Dark Day,
Sandy B,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alphaville,
Angry Samoans,
In Retrospect,
Oneida,
Magazine,
Godley & Creme,
Bush Tetras,
New York Dolls,
Essential Logic,
the Human League,
Donny Hathaway,
F. McDonald,
Adolescents,
Bobby Byrd,
K-Klass,
Bad Manners,
ABBA,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kerri Chandler,
Bluetip,
Boredoms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
10cc,
The Mojo Men,
The Fuzztones,
The Selecter,
Los Fastidios,
Henry Cow,
Jeru the Damaja,
Arcadia,
Black Bananas,
Bauhaus,
The Stooges,
Joy Division,
Rakim,
Nirvana,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Ice-T,
Ronan,
Gang of Four,
Joe Finger,
A Certain Ratio,
Sister Nancy,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
Arthur Verocai,
kango's stein massive,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.