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 Gabon and from Portland.
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 Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Visage,
Terrestrial Tones,
Loose Ends,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Easy Going,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Man Parrish,
Grey Daturas,
Franke,
Wasted Youth,
Sixth Finger,
Piero Umiliani,
Rod Modell,
Lower 48,
Ronan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Delta 5,
The Real Kids,
The Young Rascals,
L. Decosne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Invisible,
Ituana,
The Evens,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ken Boothe,
The Smiths,
U.S. Maple,
Chrome,
Neu!,
ABBA,
Icehouse,
Sugar Minott,
Black Pus,
John Holt,
Porter Ricks,
ABC,
Silicon Teens,
New Order,
Make Up,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minnie Riperton,
Fluxion,
Carl Craig,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
CMW,
JFA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Au Pairs,
the Association,
The Kinks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Clear Light,
Bobby Sherman,
Niagra,
Rapeman,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.