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 Seychelles and from Salvador.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb 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 Crime to the dance 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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Masters at Work,
Minny Pops,
The Durutti Column,
cv313,
Spandau Ballet,
Wings,
The Human League,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Martian,
Wolf Eyes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cecil Taylor,
Jeff Mills,
Todd Rundgren,
Inner City,
Icehouse,
Byron Stingily,
China Crisis,
Sun Ra,
Leonard Cohen,
Boz Scaggs,
Kenny Larkin,
Suicide,
Heaven 17,
Eurythmics,
Fela Kuti,
E-Dancer,
The Trojans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Connie Case,
Fear,
Suburban Knight,
The Detroit Cobras,
Livin' Joy,
Bluetip,
Young Marble Giants,
Monks,
David Bowie,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
LL Cool J,
The Saints,
Rapeman,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Cale,
Bobby Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Patti Smith,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
The Pop Group,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Holt,
Unwound,
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.