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 Croatia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 snare 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 Radio Birdman to the punk 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Tomorrow,
Minnie Riperton,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fuzztones,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
MDC,
The Last Poets,
Bob Dylan,
Deepchord,
U.S. Maple,
Anakelly,
Laurel Aitken,
The Electric Prunes,
Mad Mike,
Spandau Ballet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alison Limerick,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Names,
Zapp,
Symarip,
AZ,
Motorama,
Bad Manners,
the Association,
Tom Boy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tommy Roe,
L. Decosne,
Deadbeat,
Technova,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agent Orange,
Outsiders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Iggy Pop,
Sun Ra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scion,
Drexciya,
Andrew Hill,
Stiv Bators,
The Gun Club,
Smog,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Sherman,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gladiators,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scrapy,
This Heat,
Roger Hodgson,
Vladislav Delay,
Monks,
New Order,
Y Pants,
Mission of Burma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Organ,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.