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 Iran and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 ABC to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
David Bowie,
Don Cherry,
Banda Bassotti,
Make Up,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crooked Eye,
John Foxx,
La Düsseldorf,
Essential Logic,
Hot Snakes,
The Raincoats,
The Birthday Party,
The Golliwogs,
Siglo XX,
The Happenings,
China Crisis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pagans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bush Tetras,
Max Romeo,
Moebius,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nils Olav,
Boz Scaggs,
the Swans,
OOIOO,
The Trojans,
World's Most,
Buzzcocks,
Barry Ungar,
Vainqueur,
Suburban Knight,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Flag,
The Mummies,
Man Eating Sloth,
Adolescents,
The Star Department,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Last Poets,
Aaron Thompson,
Harry Pussy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Q65,
Interpol,
Blossom Toes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warsaw,
The Busters,
Zapp,
Judy Mowatt,
Basic Channel,
D'Angelo,
The Alarm Clocks,
ABBA,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monolake,
Cheater Slicks,
Man Parrish,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.