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 El Salvador and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gories,
8 Eyed Spy,
Blossom Toes,
Soul II Soul,
Lebanon Hanover,
Byron Stingily,
Sandy B,
Bad Manners,
Popol Vuh,
Colin Newman,
Eric Dolphy,
Echospace,
The Remains,
Mr. Review,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Flipper,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick,
Mandrill,
The Durutti Column,
Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang Green,
These Immortal Souls,
The Moody Blues,
Eddi Front,
Eli Mardock,
The Victims,
Lyres,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Erykah Badu,
Loose Ends,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tres Demented,
The Techniques,
The Count Five,
Ten City,
Boredoms,
The Trojans,
Monks,
Scrapy,
Al Stewart,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fear,
Eric Copeland,
Patti Smith,
Main Source,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
Matthew Halsall,
Marvin Gaye,
Crispian St. Peters,
Letta Mbulu,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Mojo Men,
Jacques Brel,
R.M.O.,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.