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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Sherman to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers,
Nik Kershaw,
Arab on Radar,
Parry Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Jacques Brel,
Television Personalities,
Franke,
U.S. Maple,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dirtbombs,
Black Pus,
The Trojans,
Ronnie Foster,
The J.B.'s,
Scientists,
Soul II Soul,
Laurel Aitken,
Dead Boys,
Eurythmics,
Bauhaus,
The Slits,
Kenny Larkin,
James White and The Blacks,
Funkadelic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crime,
The Count Five,
Sound Behaviour,
the Germs,
Moby Grape,
Panda Bear,
Hot Snakes,
Monolake,
Metal Thangz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Invisible,
Sparks,
the Human League,
Matthew Bourne,
Accadde A,
Yaz,
The Techniques,
Girls At Our Best!,
Donald Byrd,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Icehouse,
Scrapy,
The Durutti Column,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Severed Heads,
Marc Almond,
Underground Resistance,
Carl Craig,
Radio Birdman,
John Lydon,
The Names,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.