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 Iran and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the electroclash 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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yellowson,
Niagra,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Depeche Mode,
Sun City Girls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pet Shop Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
The Dead C,
China Crisis,
The Walker Brothers,
Pantytec,
Goldenarms,
The Fire Engines,
the Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Hood,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glenn Branca,
Tomorrow,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gang Starr,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Yaz,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cramps,
Bauhaus,
Althea and Donna,
Bronski Beat,
Aswad,
Aural Exciters,
Basic Channel,
Nico,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Royal Trux,
Rosa Yemen,
Shuggie Otis,
Ponytail,
Drive Like Jehu,
Unwound,
Robert Wyatt,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Byrd,
Stetsasonic,
Man Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marc Almond,
Erasure,
Make Up,
The Buckinghams,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Organ,
Blake Baxter,
Chrome,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.