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 Ethiopia and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Siglo XX to the crunk 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Nick Fraelich,
Amon Düül,
The Misunderstood,
Dead Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
The Fuzztones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monks,
Stiv Bators,
June Days,
Flamin' Groovies,
Boogie Down Productions,
Laurel Aitken,
Fad Gadget,
The Doors,
Sonic Youth,
The Pop Group,
The Busters,
Schoolly D,
Cameo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Television,
Fela Kuti,
Urselle,
Barrington Levy,
Fugazi,
R.M.O.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Aaron Thompson,
Josef K,
Tres Demented,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roger Hodgson,
Erasure,
Mission of Burma,
Eddi Front,
Babytalk,
The Buckinghams,
The Five Americans,
Joensuu 1685,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
K-Klass,
Colin Newman,
Brick,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bang On A Can,
Wolf Eyes,
Ronan,
Negative Approach,
Gang Green,
Black Bananas,
Simply Red,
Isaac Hayes,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.