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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Jacques Brel to the electroclash 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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echo & the Bunnymen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Malaria!,
The Misunderstood,
Rapeman,
The Index,
Brick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Main Source,
Kayak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arthur Verocai,
Godley & Creme,
ABBA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Janne Schatter,
Theoretical Girls,
48th St. Collective,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Association,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cowsills,
Barry Ungar,
Clear Light,
Nas,
Blake Baxter,
Gichy Dan,
Minny Pops,
Rufus Thomas,
B.T. Express,
K-Klass,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lou Christie,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Angry Samoans,
The Litter,
The Dirtbombs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dennis Brown,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Youth Brigade,
The Toasters,
Absolute Body Control,
X-101,
John Holt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Shuggie Otis,
The Happenings,
The Durutti Column,
Scratch Acid,
Vainqueur,
Carl Craig,
Crash Course in Science,
8 Eyed Spy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
June of 44,
The Detroit Cobras,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Circle Jerks,
The Human League,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.