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 Algeria and from Toronto.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the punk 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
David Bowie,
Aural Exciters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crime,
Ultravox,
The Leaves,
Fugazi,
Mr. Review,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
The Names,
Mo-Dettes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Television Personalities,
Sister Nancy,
Rufus Thomas,
Flash Fearless,
The Offenders,
Babytalk,
Jandek,
Deakin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rekid,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Quando Quango,
The Count Five,
Johnny Osbourne,
AZ,
Minutemen,
The Cramps,
Vainqueur,
The Durutti Column,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick May,
Boredoms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sandy B,
The Star Department,
Terrestrial Tones,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
UT,
Scott Walker,
John Lydon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Patti Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Fela Kuti,
Masters at Work,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dave Gahan,
Icehouse,
Lalann,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.