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 Cape Verde 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Magma to the grime 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacques Brel,
Wasted Youth,
The Martian,
Tim Buckley,
Howard Jones,
Ultravox,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill,
Metal Thangz,
Pantaleimon,
The Pop Group,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
Warsaw,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Teasers,
Au Pairs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Residents,
Hot Snakes,
Siglo XX,
Fear,
Skarface,
Television,
Rotary Connection,
Isaac Hayes,
Maleditus Sound,
Blancmange,
Pole,
Excepter,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fire Engines,
Mark Hollis,
Massinfluence,
The Velvet Underground,
The Mighty Diamonds,
China Crisis,
D'Angelo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jacob Miller,
Symarip,
Eve St. Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Index,
The Black Dice,
FM Einheit,
The Cramps,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ohio Players,
New York Dolls,
The Gap Band,
Flipper,
Swans,
Chris & Cosey,
the Normal,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Derrick May,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.