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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Certain Ratio to the grime 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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Ice-T,
Chris Corsano,
Ken Boothe,
Absolute Body Control,
The Raincoats,
Black Flag,
Derrick Morgan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Style,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Human League,
The Dead C,
Sister Nancy,
Fluxion,
The Five Americans,
Silicon Teens,
Von Mondo,
CMW,
Arab on Radar,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rufus Thomas,
Deadbeat,
The Stooges,
Lucky Dragons,
Skarface,
Eric Copeland,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
Schoolly D,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-102,
K-Klass,
Vladislav Delay,
The Selecter,
Ponytail,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Bar-Kays,
the Slits,
Groovy Waters,
The Monochrome Set,
Mantronix,
Aloha Tigers,
The Smoke,
Brothers Johnson,
Juan Atkins,
Bronski Beat,
Jeff Lynne,
Reagan Youth,
Amon Düül,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soul II Soul,
The Golliwogs,
Symarip,
Procol Harum,
Sugar Minott,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.