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 Liechtenstein and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Joy Division to the punk 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Unwound,
Andrew Hill,
The Stooges,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Schoolly D,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Graham Central Station,
Circle Jerks,
John Holt,
Hasil Adkins,
David Bowie,
Scrapy,
Eric Copeland,
Barrington Levy,
Electric Prunes,
The Fire Engines,
Dead Boys,
Television Personalities,
Lucky Dragons,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Outsiders,
Visage,
T. Rex,
La Düsseldorf,
AZ,
Neil Young,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Symarip,
Vainqueur,
The Neon Judgement,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mark Hollis,
Index,
Jacques Brel,
The Kinks,
The Gories,
Barry Ungar,
Simply Red,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Malaria!,
The Velvet Underground,
Eden Ahbez,
Funky Four + One,
Grauzone,
Yaz,
Excepter,
Sällskapet,
New Order,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Moleskins,
the Soft Cell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mad Mike,
Ice-T,
Joe Finger,
Neu!,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Swans,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.