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 Equatorial Guinea and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Television to the techno 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Ronnie Foster,
Mars,
Flipper,
Nick Fraelich,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brick,
Maurizio,
Rapeman,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grey Daturas,
The Vogues,
Slave,
Bronski Beat,
Cluster,
Traffic Nightmare,
Basic Channel,
Minor Threat,
Yaz,
The Stooges,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ponytail,
Das Ding,
Model 500,
Accadde A,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Slackers,
Lucky Dragons,
Country Teasers,
Minnie Riperton,
Echospace,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barrington Levy,
Sandy B,
CMW,
The Names,
Sixth Finger,
The Smoke,
Wally Richardson,
Youth Brigade,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tears for Fears,
Adolescents,
The Sonics,
Animal Collective,
AZ,
Pole,
Yazoo,
Soul II Soul,
Rekid,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Music Machine,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fluxion,
Sällskapet,
PIL,
Neil Young,
Easy Going,
Bobby Sherman,
Tubeway Army,
Oneida,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tommy Roe,
Eric Copeland,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.