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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Janne Schatter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Barclay James Harvest,
David Bowie,
Sex Pistols,
Grauzone,
Camberwell Now,
The Misunderstood,
Rapeman,
Sugar Minott,
Smog,
the Sonics,
The Birthday Party,
Panda Bear,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barry Ungar,
The Grass Roots,
Trumans Water,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalann,
Infiniti,
The Zeros,
The Modern Lovers,
Jeff Mills,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mars,
Easy Going,
Connie Case,
Sun City Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Rosa Yemen,
Barrington Levy,
Henry Cow,
Boredoms,
Pere Ubu,
The Pop Group,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Guru Guru,
New Order,
Yaz,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Newcleus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Clear Light,
The Searchers,
Eric Dolphy,
Tubeway Army,
Tropical Tobacco,
FM Einheit,
Crime,
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Icehouse,
Isaac Hayes,
The Techniques,
The Moody Blues,
Reuben Wilson,
the Slits,
Black Moon,
The Skatalites,
Boz Scaggs,
Cecil Taylor,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.