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 Sierra Leone and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Last Poets to the funk 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Organ,
Lungfish,
T.S.O.L.,
Smog,
The Barracudas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Man Parrish,
A Certain Ratio,
Niagra,
EPMD,
The Cowsills,
DJ Style,
Slick Rick,
The Evens,
Icehouse,
Nas,
The Vogues,
Silicon Teens,
The Monks,
The Star Department,
Lucky Dragons,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Quantec,
Erasure,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
Fela Kuti,
Byron Stingily,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cymande,
Banda Bassotti,
Scion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultra Naté,
Pantytec,
Mission of Burma,
Essential Logic,
Accadde A,
The Birthday Party,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
This Heat,
Lindisfarne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Au Pairs,
the Slits,
Grey Daturas,
Minor Threat,
Ossler,
Roger Hodgson,
Minutemen,
B.T. Express,
Oneida,
Pierre Henry,
The Doors,
Vainqueur,
David Bowie,
Kaleidoscope,
Arab on Radar,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.