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 Portugal and from Tehran.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Rites of Spring to the punk 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
The Mummies,
Jandek,
The Skatalites,
Siglo XX,
Absolute Body Control,
Barbara Tucker,
Popol Vuh,
The Gap Band,
Cheater Slicks,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Average White Band,
Harmonia,
The Selecter,
Gong,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Walker Brothers,
Sandy B,
Magazine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
The Grass Roots,
Nico,
Slave,
Scion,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Human League,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Names,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Vogues,
Ornette Coleman,
Derrick Morgan,
Funkadelic,
Cecil Taylor,
Sound Behaviour,
Althea and Donna,
Kurtis Blow,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
Japan,
Ronnie Foster,
Symarip,
Susan Cadogan,
Henry Cow,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soulsonic Force,
David McCallum,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Delta 5,
Crash Course in Science,
Bluetip,
Swell Maps,
Mission of Burma,
Bronski Beat,
Babytalk,
Arthur Verocai,
Brand Nubian,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.