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 Uganda and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 James White and The Blacks to the grunge 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Vladislav Delay,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Michelle Simonal,
Tears for Fears,
Sparks,
Black Bananas,
F. McDonald,
Freddie Wadling,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Donny Hathaway,
Funky Four + One,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Lucky Dragons,
Gang Green,
Quadrant,
the Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Max Romeo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pere Ubu,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Star Department,
Nick Fraelich,
Hoover,
Maurizio,
Kerri Chandler,
Fad Gadget,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monolake,
World's Most,
ABC,
DJ Sneak,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marc Almond,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Christie,
Alice Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
48th St. Collective,
Jesper Dahlback,
Franke,
Letta Mbulu,
The Buckinghams,
The Mummies,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bauhaus,
Banda Bassotti,
Alton Ellis,
The Mojo Men,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Barrington Levy,
The Busters,
Lyres,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.