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 Tanzania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 chamberlin 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 48th St. Collective to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Doobie Brothers,
Man Parrish,
E-Dancer,
Wings,
Tim Buckley,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott Heron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Prince Buster,
Cecil Taylor,
Model 500,
The Litter,
Oblivians,
Sound Behaviour,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Heaven 17,
Yazoo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sex Pistols,
Rosa Yemen,
The Young Rascals,
Grauzone,
The Moleskins,
Bauhaus,
Idris Muhammad,
Ituana,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tomorrow,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Vogues,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hasil Adkins,
New York Dolls,
Lyres,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erasure,
Radiohead,
Bang On A Can,
the Association,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Names,
Franke,
Pierre Henry,
Brass Construction,
Eric Dolphy,
Lungfish,
Sister Nancy,
Fear,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Main Source,
Black Sheep,
Freddie Wadling,
Brick,
Black Flag,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Invisible,
Mark Hollis,
cv313, cv313, cv313, cv313.
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.