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 Sierra Leone and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Tubeway Army to the techno 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Gang Green,
Graham Central Station,
Excepter,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
Metal Thangz,
Quando Quango,
June of 44,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jawbox,
Mantronix,
Qualms,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Delta 5,
Second Layer,
Funkadelic,
Iggy Pop,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alphaville,
Ten City,
Masters at Work,
Jandek,
The Zeros,
Fela Kuti,
Tears for Fears,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
Arab on Radar,
Mars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pierre Henry,
Eli Mardock,
Babytalk,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Hood,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
PIL,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faust,
Jacques Brel,
James White and The Blacks,
Gichy Dan,
The Dead C,
Glenn Branca,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Unwound,
Hardrive,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deadbeat,
Japan,
The Cramps,
Fear,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Junior Murvin,
Sparks,
Archie Shepp,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.