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 Haiti and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ralphi Rosario to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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?
Hot Snakes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Laurel Aitken,
The Leaves,
China Crisis,
Tommy Roe,
Stereo Dub,
The Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Music Machine,
Warren Ellis,
Quantec,
Tres Demented,
Sam Rivers,
Althea and Donna,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dawn Penn,
Marc Almond,
Davy DMX,
Motorama,
Pantytec,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fuzztones,
Fluxion,
Charles Mingus,
the Soft Cell,
EPMD,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Avey Tare,
a-ha,
Scrapy,
The Birthday Party,
Harry Pussy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Slave,
Eurythmics,
Circle Jerks,
Country Teasers,
Rod Modell,
Prince Buster,
Crispy Ambulance,
Absolute Body Control,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Excepter,
The New Christs,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mojo Men,
The Moody Blues,
Los Fastidios,
New Age Steppers,
The Smiths,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Pop Group,
Fad Gadget,
Terrestrial Tones,
Youth Brigade,
The Techniques,
Joy Division,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.