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 Mali and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Donald Fagen 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 Erykah Badu to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Robert Hood,
B.T. Express,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Shoche,
The Gladiators,
The Index,
X-101,
Goldenarms,
Bob Dylan,
The Toasters,
Delta 5,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Christie,
These Immortal Souls,
Adolescents,
Quantec,
Barrington Levy,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Andrew Hill,
Saccharine Trust,
Pere Ubu,
Letta Mbulu,
Althea and Donna,
Absolute Body Control,
Angry Samoans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Shuggie Otis,
Guru Guru,
Soft Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Nation of Ulysses,
Unrelated Segments,
Schoolly D,
Pole,
Jandek,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Junior Murvin,
Zero Boys,
Nico,
Fatback Band,
Underground Resistance,
Wally Richardson,
Accadde A,
Thompson Twins,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bluetip,
The Fire Engines,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rhythm & Sound,
Quando Quango,
The Walker Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Dawn Penn,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DNA,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.