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 Mauritius and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gang of Four to the punk 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
LL Cool J,
Fad Gadget,
the Soft Cell,
Shoche,
Cymande,
Blossom Toes,
The Slackers,
The Zeros,
Thee Headcoats,
Leonard Cohen,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
Y Pants,
Negative Approach,
the Human League,
The Offenders,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Arthur Verocai,
The Divine Comedy,
Television Personalities,
The Red Krayola,
Tubeway Army,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mars,
The Blues Magoos,
Barrington Levy,
New York Dolls,
Mantronix,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
Stiv Bators,
Second Layer,
a-ha,
Dawn Penn,
Eric Copeland,
Harpers Bizarre,
Matthew Bourne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Altered Images,
Con Funk Shun,
Delta 5,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Idris Muhammad,
Derrick May,
China Crisis,
the Bar-Kays,
Dave Gahan,
Jeff Lynne,
X-Ray Spex,
Neil Young,
DNA,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronan,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.