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 Nauru 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Robert Wyatt to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Danielle Patucci,
Soft Cell,
Scratch Acid,
Scion,
Pagans,
The Smoke,
Supertramp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Simply Red,
The Beau Brummels,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Moby Grape,
The Standells,
David McCallum,
Deadbeat,
Aloha Tigers,
Young Marble Giants,
Peter and Kerry,
The Grass Roots,
Lightning Bolt,
Oneida,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Index,
DJ Sneak,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin,
Anakelly,
Metal Thangz,
Suicide,
Dual Sessions,
The Slackers,
Inner City,
Kaleidoscope,
Jacques Brel,
Bobby Byrd,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sister Nancy,
Negative Approach,
Todd Terry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Y Pants,
The Victims,
K-Klass,
the Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
Piero Umiliani,
Subhumans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sandy B,
Spandau Ballet,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lungfish,
Marvin Gaye,
Popol Vuh,
Bill Wells,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.