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 Burundi and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Radiohead to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Agent Orange,
Supertramp,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bootsy Collins,
Swell Maps,
June of 44,
Public Enemy,
Darondo,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Happenings,
Marcia Griffiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Holt,
Suburban Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
Tim Buckley,
Cybotron,
Patti Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Pretty Things,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric Copeland,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Robert Görl,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Foxx,
X-Ray Spex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New York Dolls,
Ice-T,
H. Thieme,
Josef K,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Raincoats,
The Evens,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Piero Umiliani,
Porter Ricks,
Pagans,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Smoke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brand Nubian,
Unwound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wings,
Eurythmics,
Blake Baxter,
The Mojo Men,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Neu!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arab on Radar,
the Sonics,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.