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 Montenegro and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Faraquet to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Crispy Ambulance,
Los Fastidios,
Franke,
The Gladiators,
The Zeros,
Animal Collective,
Chris Corsano,
Alton Ellis,
The Modern Lovers,
Visage,
Crash Course in Science,
Kenny Larkin,
John Coltrane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Loose Ends,
Japan,
Maurizio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Wake,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
Blake Baxter,
Donald Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
Brothers Johnson,
The Trojans,
Gabor Szabo,
Massinfluence,
The Gun Club,
Bluetip,
Index,
Soul II Soul,
Hoover,
Ohio Players,
EPMD,
Skarface,
Yaz,
Sällskapet,
Bill Near,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Black Bananas,
The Index,
Jacques Brel,
Black Moon,
Sparks,
Easy Going,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Swans,
The Cure,
Gang Green,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Make Up,
Camouflage,
Tommy Roe,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.