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 Netherlands and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Beau Brummels to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
The Fall,
The Flesh Eaters,
Steve Hackett,
Bush Tetras,
Black Moon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Barracudas,
Sixth Finger,
Jacob Miller,
The Fugs,
Maurizio,
Lucky Dragons,
Absolute Body Control,
Kayak,
The Black Dice,
Gang Green,
Mary Jane Girls,
Boredoms,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scientists,
Carl Craig,
H. Thieme,
Juan Atkins,
ABBA,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Germs,
Los Fastidios,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tom Boy,
Model 500,
Alton Ellis,
Au Pairs,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Walker Brothers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
48th St. Collective,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars,
Michelle Simonal,
Infiniti,
Pere Ubu,
Minnie Riperton,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aural Exciters,
New Order,
Zero Boys,
Todd Terry,
Harry Pussy,
Alison Limerick,
China Crisis,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.