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 China and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 linndrum 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 Ken Boothe to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Cheater Slicks,
Whodini,
Minutemen,
Bobby Byrd,
The Zeros,
Subhumans,
Depeche Mode,
The Count Five,
Barry Ungar,
Liliput,
The Happenings,
Nils Olav,
Siglo XX,
The Searchers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Shadows of Knight,
Royal Trux,
Quadrant,
Nation of Ulysses,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Wake,
Infiniti,
The Sonics,
Scientists,
Grey Daturas,
Mark Hollis,
Basic Channel,
The Gories,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nico,
Audionom,
The Gladiators,
The Pretty Things,
Kenny Larkin,
Pylon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Supertramp,
Sugar Minott,
Accadde A,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scrapy,
The Moleskins,
Moby Grape,
The Skatalites,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blossom Toes,
Yaz,
The Slackers,
Roger Hodgson,
The Barracudas,
Mr. Review,
Cal Tjader,
Echospace,
Arab on Radar,
Minny Pops,
Joe Finger,
Man Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Human League,
Iggy Pop,
The Standells,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.