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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Lou Reed 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 Barbara Tucker to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Stooges,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lungfish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Neu!,
Toni Rubio,
Dawn Penn,
Scratch Acid,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barbara Tucker,
Fatback Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Monks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Symarip,
The Black Dice,
Andrew Hill,
Cluster,
ABBA,
Faraquet,
Shuggie Otis,
The Birthday Party,
Cybotron,
Anakelly,
Slave,
Rites of Spring,
Trumans Water,
Bobby Sherman,
Echospace,
Unwound,
Arcadia,
The Fortunes,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
Delta 5,
Sparks,
The Martian,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
Ten City,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Accadde A,
The Index,
Delon & Dalcan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kayak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Terry Callier,
Terrestrial Tones,
Magazine,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Das Ding,
Siglo XX,
Ossler,
X-101,
Sällskapet,
The Invisible,
Babytalk,
Jacques Brel,
Can,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.