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 Switzerland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Moleskins to the funk 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Andrew Hill,
Saccharine Trust,
Maurizio,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
June of 44,
Goldenarms,
Cecil Taylor,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anakelly,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Blackbyrds,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
Radio Birdman,
Schoolly D,
Black Sheep,
PIL,
Reagan Youth,
Trumans Water,
Roxy Music,
Sugar Minott,
Gang of Four,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brass Construction,
The Moody Blues,
The Walker Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
Con Funk Shun,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nas,
The Invisible,
Dead Boys,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Five Americans,
Cluster,
The Trojans,
Theoretical Girls,
Swell Maps,
Zero Boys,
Faraquet,
Wings,
The Electric Prunes,
Aloha Tigers,
La Düsseldorf,
Johnny Osbourne,
Skriet,
X-101,
the Normal,
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cymande,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Stooges,
Pierre Henry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sun City Girls,
The Moleskins,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.