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 Nauru and from Calgary.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the rock 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Morten Harket,
Arab on Radar,
L. Decosne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hashim,
Alice Coltrane,
Depeche Mode,
Max Romeo,
Mars,
Deadbeat,
Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kerri Chandler,
Suicide,
Newcleus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Audionom,
Boredoms,
Deakin,
Avey Tare,
Joe Smooth,
Royal Trux,
Theoretical Girls,
Girls At Our Best!,
Amon Düül,
Alton Ellis,
Dorothy Ashby,
H. Thieme,
Hot Snakes,
Swell Maps,
Metal Thangz,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tim Buckley,
Skaos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Zapp,
The Residents,
Joyce Sims,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eli Mardock,
The Move,
Lou Reed,
Judy Mowatt,
Excepter,
New Order,
Stiv Bators,
The Dead C,
Jacques Brel,
Malaria!,
Essential Logic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Litter,
The Sound,
John Holt,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Reagan Youth,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.