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 Kosovo and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mr. Review,
Sound Behaviour,
The Fortunes,
Tomorrow,
Rites of Spring,
Bob Dylan,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
Lungfish,
Skriet,
E-Dancer,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fugs,
Circle Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Lucky Dragons,
Pantytec,
X-Ray Spex,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dead Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Steve Hackett,
The Associates,
The Dead C,
Carl Craig,
Grauzone,
Shuggie Otis,
The Knickerbockers,
Aloha Tigers,
Junior Murvin,
Dave Gahan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy Collins,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funky Four + One,
The Index,
Sun Ra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sonic Youth,
The Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
Bobby Womack,
Sex Pistols,
Max Romeo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Moody Blues,
Derrick May,
Negative Approach,
Colin Newman,
Scion,
Joyce Sims,
Jeru the Damaja,
Whodini,
Black Moon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Section 25,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.