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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rap 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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Essential Logic,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultra Naté,
Saccharine Trust,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sound,
Y Pants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
Davy DMX,
Deepchord,
Angry Samoans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Little Man,
Junior Murvin,
Crooked Eye,
Duran Duran,
Scratch Acid,
Stiv Bators,
Howard Jones,
Fad Gadget,
Blossom Toes,
Country Teasers,
Donny Hathaway,
Pantytec,
Zapp,
Gang of Four,
Gabor Szabo,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Reed,
Todd Rundgren,
Tubeway Army,
The Barracudas,
Cheater Slicks,
10cc,
Dead Boys,
This Heat,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Gun Club,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Smog,
The Slits,
Pierre Henry,
Arab on Radar,
The Remains,
Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Amon Düül II,
Fugazi,
The Cramps,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Piero Umiliani,
Swans,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.