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 Mexico and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes 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 Schoolly D to the electroclash 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
Johnny Clarke,
Supertramp,
Bush Tetras,
Kurtis Blow,
Section 25,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Malaria!,
Josef K,
Wally Richardson,
Byron Stingily,
Wasted Youth,
Barbara Tucker,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crime,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Sherman,
Max Romeo,
Tim Buckley,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Durutti Column,
Cal Tjader,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Qualms,
Steve Hackett,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
the Association,
Donny Hathaway,
Pylon,
The Knickerbockers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang On A Can,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sound Behaviour,
Swans,
The Velvet Underground,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
Boredoms,
The Evens,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skaos,
The Remains,
Junior Murvin,
Dave Gahan,
The Offenders,
Peter & Gordon,
Agent Orange,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Make Up,
The Stooges,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grey Daturas,
Fat Boys,
Fluxion,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.