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 Benin and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Al Stewart to the punk 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
The Cramps,
The Divine Comedy,
Janne Schatter,
Kaleidoscope,
T. Rex,
Camberwell Now,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stiv Bators,
Funkadelic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cal Tjader,
Scratch Acid,
The Selecter,
New York Dolls,
Laurel Aitken,
Das Ding,
The Music Machine,
Duran Duran,
Rites of Spring,
the Bar-Kays,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grauzone,
The Gladiators,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
Slave,
Fear,
Whodini,
The Five Americans,
Scion,
Tears for Fears,
Country Teasers,
Eurythmics,
John Holt,
The Martian,
cv313,
The Leaves,
X-101,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joe Smooth,
Albert Ayler,
Michelle Simonal,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roxy Music,
The Monks,
Soul II Soul,
Alton Ellis,
Heaven 17,
Lalann,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Red Krayola,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eli Mardock,
Jawbox,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.