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 Chile and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Mandrill to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Shoche,
Mantronix,
Gang Green,
Susan Cadogan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
John Lydon,
Audionom,
Amon Düül,
R.M.O.,
Lou Christie,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Delta 5,
Reuben Wilson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lebanon Hanover,
Idris Muhammad,
Marvin Gaye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Howard Jones,
Ossler,
cv313,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Ronnie Foster,
Arthur Verocai,
China Crisis,
Donald Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
Alice Coltrane,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
World's Most,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Tim Buckley,
The Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
Deakin,
Harry Pussy,
The Count Five,
Subhumans,
Simply Red,
Wally Richardson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lucky Dragons,
Motorama,
Brass Construction,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Names,
Wolf Eyes,
ABC,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lakeside,
Steve Hackett,
Tubeway Army,
Marcia Griffiths,
MC5,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.