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 Thailand and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Simply Red to the dance 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD 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?
Tears for Fears,
These Immortal Souls,
Brick,
Monolake,
Dave Gahan,
Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Anthony Braxton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bizarre Inc.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mandrill,
The Misunderstood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Victims,
X-101,
Little Man,
The Velvet Underground,
Second Layer,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Byrd,
Skarface,
Stiv Bators,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blake Baxter,
Dual Sessions,
Fatback Band,
Chris & Cosey,
E-Dancer,
Black Bananas,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Slits,
Bang On A Can,
Connie Case,
Kool Moe Dee,
T. Rex,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
UT,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
Quando Quango,
Sällskapet,
Wasted Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Todd Rundgren,
The Beau Brummels,
David Bowie,
Angry Samoans,
Wally Richardson,
Scrapy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barbara Tucker,
Cameo,
Jeff Lynne,
FM Einheit,
Black Moon,
The Gun Club,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.