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 Ireland and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Marcia Griffiths to the techno 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cymande,
New Age Steppers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Average White Band,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
Desert Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
The Standells,
The Offenders,
Drive Like Jehu,
B.T. Express,
Thompson Twins,
Crooked Eye,
Japan,
Albert Ayler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scan 7,
Ornette Coleman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Coltrane,
Sparks,
Wally Richardson,
David Axelrod,
Kerri Chandler,
Scientists,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fall,
Brick,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
Flipper,
The Blackbyrds,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Gories,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Barracudas,
Accadde A,
Rufus Thomas,
Mars,
John Lydon,
Radio Birdman,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sun Ra,
Hardrive,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
June Days,
The Trojans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Bar-Kays,
K-Klass,
Severed Heads,
Yellowson,
Ponytail,
Ken Boothe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harry Pussy,
Model 500,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.