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 Congo and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 sitar 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 Country Teasers to the grime 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Pussy Galore,
Brand Nubian,
Groovy Waters,
The Mummies,
Ultravox,
10cc,
Iggy Pop,
Ten City,
The Moody Blues,
The Saints,
Man Parrish,
Motorama,
Zero Boys,
Ice-T,
Lungfish,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mojo Men,
Masters at Work,
Eli Mardock,
Public Enemy,
Siglo XX,
Warren Ellis,
Max Romeo,
Eden Ahbez,
Von Mondo,
Grauzone,
Ohio Players,
X-101,
Nation of Ulysses,
Amazonics,
Guru Guru,
The Sound,
Aural Exciters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
K-Klass,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Danielle Patucci,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
Fad Gadget,
Faust,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Khruangbin,
Quantec,
Basic Channel,
The Smiths,
Essential Logic,
Liliput,
Donny Hathaway,
Moebius,
The Smoke,
Y Pants,
cv313,
Black Moon,
Moby Grape,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kenny Larkin,
Japan,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.