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 Portugal and from Delhi.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
The Saints,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pulsallama,
Rekid,
Aaron Thompson,
The Velvet Underground,
Henry Cow,
The Invisible,
Lalann,
Prince Buster,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Funky Four + One,
Dave Gahan,
The Cowsills,
Pet Shop Boys,
Derrick May,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Icehouse,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric Dolphy,
Ludus,
Man Parrish,
Lou Christie,
Echospace,
Parry Music,
Heaven 17,
The Fire Engines,
Malaria!,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Modern Lovers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eddi Front,
Camouflage,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jerry's Kids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultravox,
Lindisfarne,
Hasil Adkins,
Kas Product,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Simply Red,
Wasted Youth,
Audionom,
The Barracudas,
Mark Hollis,
Ten City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Country Teasers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Zapp,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.