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 Djibouti and from Cairo.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Eric B and Rakim to the punk 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 Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Supertramp,
Chrome,
Kas Product,
Albert Ayler,
Kenny Larkin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Toni Rubio,
Intrusion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joey Negro,
The Misunderstood,
Depeche Mode,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Black Dice,
Pantytec,
Underground Resistance,
Dead Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lightning Bolt,
Popol Vuh,
Khruangbin,
The Gladiators,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Erasure,
Bauhaus,
The Cure,
T. Rex,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
Visage,
Gang of Four,
Bootsy Collins,
Deadbeat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Q and Not U,
Chris Corsano,
Dave Gahan,
Malaria!,
Minnie Riperton,
Hasil Adkins,
Agent Orange,
Fluxion,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Five Americans,
Lou Christie,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Unwound,
Letta Mbulu,
Zero Boys,
Aural Exciters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arthur Verocai,
Monks,
One Last Wish,
Wally Richardson,
Section 25,
Grey Daturas,
Electric Prunes,
The Cowsills,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.