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 Bangladesh and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Matthew Halsall to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
The Golliwogs,
The Dead C,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mission of Burma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
Andrew Hill,
a-ha,
Technova,
Pantytec,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wasted Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Unwound,
Laurel Aitken,
Cameo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Crime,
B.T. Express,
Ponytail,
Theoretical Girls,
New Age Steppers,
Todd Terry,
Arcadia,
Bobby Sherman,
Malaria!,
Reagan Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
the Sonics,
Chris & Cosey,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sugar Minott,
Joyce Sims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Moss Icon,
The Skatalites,
Television Personalities,
Danielle Patucci,
Alton Ellis,
The Index,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Christie,
Stiv Bators,
The Remains,
Alphaville,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amazonics,
Henry Cow,
Icehouse,
Skaos,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Hood,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.