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 Pakistan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Ponytail to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Severed Heads,
DNA,
MDC,
Jeff Lynne,
The Trojans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Qualms,
The Sonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wolf Eyes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rekid,
Black Sheep,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Young Marble Giants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
Josef K,
Magazine,
Davy DMX,
Faust,
Kevin Saunderson,
F. McDonald,
The Cure,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
Pantytec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Public Enemy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jandek,
The Evens,
Jerry's Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Görl,
Wally Richardson,
Cheater Slicks,
Rod Modell,
Siglo XX,
Scratch Acid,
Con Funk Shun,
New York Dolls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ituana,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Sherman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Juan Atkins,
Technova,
Idris Muhammad,
The Seeds,
Nick Fraelich,
The J.B.'s,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.