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 Taiwan and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Mr. Review to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Gang Green,
The Mummies,
Minor Threat,
The Doors,
Pierre Henry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tears for Fears,
KRS-One,
Sugar Minott,
Hoover,
Fluxion,
Nas,
Urselle,
The Barracudas,
Johnny Clarke,
The Five Americans,
Malaria!,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stiv Bators,
The Moody Blues,
Sällskapet,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks,
Absolute Body Control,
Robert Hood,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harry Pussy,
Easy Going,
MDC,
Tim Buckley,
Fela Kuti,
Yusef Lateef,
Marvin Gaye,
Vladislav Delay,
Marine Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
kango's stein massive,
Black Sheep,
Andrew Hill,
Severed Heads,
The Selecter,
X-Ray Spex,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tommy Roe,
The Alarm Clocks,
Prince Buster,
The Offenders,
Lucky Dragons,
Little Man,
Ken Boothe,
The Red Krayola,
The Star Department,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Litter,
Agent Orange,
The Monks,
E-Dancer,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.