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 Tunisia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes 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 Sexual Harrassment to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nas,
Royal Trux,
The Moleskins,
Minor Threat,
The Black Dice,
Bad Manners,
the Swans,
Symarip,
Fat Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Supertramp,
Wally Richardson,
Dawn Penn,
The J.B.'s,
David McCallum,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Slave,
The Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
Bang On A Can,
The New Christs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Human League,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nik Kershaw,
Livin' Joy,
The Music Machine,
Cybotron,
Guru Guru,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Henry Cow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pagans,
Black Pus,
DJ Sneak,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Alphaville,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Blues Magoos,
Deakin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Neu!,
A Certain Ratio,
New Order,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Minutemen,
Junior Murvin,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wasted Youth,
The Fuzztones,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.