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 Bahamas and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the rap 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
The Divine Comedy,
The Martian,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bauhaus,
Ornette Coleman,
The Residents,
Sandy B,
Loose Ends,
The Knickerbockers,
Goldenarms,
Second Layer,
The Pretty Things,
E-Dancer,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantaleimon,
The J.B.'s,
Fat Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Man Parrish,
Easy Going,
Excepter,
Harmonia,
Mars,
Derrick May,
Ohio Players,
The Neon Judgement,
Donny Hathaway,
Absolute Body Control,
Cluster,
Royal Trux,
Cal Tjader,
Ituana,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dave Gahan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kas Product,
KRS-One,
the Fania All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
Zapp,
Cecil Taylor,
Quando Quango,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rod Modell,
Lower 48,
David McCallum,
Letta Mbulu,
Shuggie Otis,
Harry Pussy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donald Byrd,
OOIOO,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.