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 Singapore 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nick Fraelich to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
The Cramps,
The Monks,
David Axelrod,
Sparks,
Mad Mike,
Clear Light,
Quando Quango,
Skaos,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tres Demented,
Jacob Miller,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Altered Images,
Reuben Wilson,
Laurel Aitken,
Thompson Twins,
Albert Ayler,
Maleditus Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Masters at Work,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
Lungfish,
Sex Pistols,
Pantytec,
Rakim,
Fela Kuti,
Flash Fearless,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
Outsiders,
Simply Red,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Parry Music,
Circle Jerks,
Quantec,
Johnny Clarke,
The J.B.'s,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Al Stewart,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Martian,
Roger Hodgson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-102,
Grauzone,
UT,
Popol Vuh,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.