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 Egypt and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the punk 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Trojans,
DNA,
the Germs,
Tomorrow,
Slick Rick,
Toni Rubio,
Peter & Gordon,
The J.B.'s,
Schoolly D,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Q65,
Tom Boy,
Delta 5,
Fluxion,
The Selecter,
Black Moon,
Theoretical Girls,
Inner City,
Average White Band,
David Bowie,
Kayak,
Rapeman,
Make Up,
Intrusion,
Eli Mardock,
X-101,
Eden Ahbez,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Bar-Kays,
Tommy Roe,
Lungfish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joensuu 1685,
David Axelrod,
Funkadelic,
Slave,
The Gun Club,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Siglo XX,
Glambeats Corp.,
Young Marble Giants,
Niagra,
T. Rex,
The Last Poets,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
Sister Nancy,
Adolescents,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobbi Humphrey,
48th St. Collective,
Depeche Mode,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bobby Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Silicon Teens,
Masters at Work,
Thee Headcoats,
Lalo Schifrin,
Charles Mingus,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.