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 Somalia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marine Girls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Robert Hood,
Sparks,
Hashim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Swell Maps,
Ronan,
Sex Pistols,
The Golliwogs,
Lou Reed,
Surgeon,
Wally Richardson,
Accadde A,
UT,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gong,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Monolake,
Masters at Work,
Sandy B,
Tom Boy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yusef Lateef,
The Count Five,
June Days,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
Cybotron,
Sun City Girls,
The Cure,
Darondo,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pulsallama,
Peter & Gordon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Guru Guru,
Morten Harket,
Popol Vuh,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wolf Eyes,
Soulsonic Force,
Heaven 17,
New York Dolls,
Derrick May,
Altered Images,
The United States of America,
Chris Corsano,
Cymande,
Rod Modell,
La Düsseldorf,
Pere Ubu,
Pylon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sound Behaviour,
Soft Machine,
Chris & Cosey,
Terry Callier,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moody Blues,
Angry Samoans,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.