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 Niger and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tim Buckley to the techno 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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Ultra Naté,
The Modern Lovers,
Mantronix,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Chrome,
The Gladiators,
Agent Orange,
OOIOO,
The Raincoats,
Easy Going,
The Slits,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marvin Gaye,
Ornette Coleman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
FM Einheit,
Rekid,
The Golliwogs,
Soul II Soul,
KRS-One,
Newcleus,
Malaria!,
Judy Mowatt,
Wire,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Josef K,
Thee Headcoats,
The Neon Judgement,
X-101,
Black Bananas,
Susan Cadogan,
Mars,
Sarah Menescal,
Max Romeo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nils Olav,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nick Fraelich,
Jandek,
Eli Mardock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Harmonia,
Neil Young,
The Dead C,
Janne Schatter,
Make Up,
Ludus,
Albert Ayler,
Radiohead,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric B and Rakim,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mr. Review,
The Fortunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mandrill,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.