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 Korea South and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 New Order to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Ossler,
Ultimate Spinach,
ABBA,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Girls At Our Best!,
Chris Corsano,
Oneida,
Anthony Braxton,
Ken Boothe,
Bluetip,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang of Four,
X-102,
Porter Ricks,
The Residents,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brass Construction,
Danielle Patucci,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Pus,
Kerri Chandler,
Royal Trux,
Sam Rivers,
Procol Harum,
L. Decosne,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun City Girls,
Von Mondo,
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
Second Layer,
Qualms,
The Knickerbockers,
Gabor Szabo,
Sparks,
Shuggie Otis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
Eve St. Jones,
The Angels of Light,
AZ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Depeche Mode,
Mandrill,
Whodini,
Ultravox,
The Red Krayola,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Silicon Teens,
Kas Product,
Morten Harket,
Charles Mingus,
Parry Music,
The Five Americans,
E-Dancer,
Radiopuhelimet,
Alice Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Donny Hathaway,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.