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 Haiti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Laurel Aitken to the grime 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Sex Pistols,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spoonie Gee,
The Pop Group,
Khruangbin,
Yellowson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Maurizio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Neil Young,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Severed Heads,
The Moleskins,
The Fall,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joey Negro,
Neu!,
Qualms,
June of 44,
John Foxx,
David Axelrod,
Das Ding,
U.S. Maple,
Massinfluence,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monks,
Newcleus,
Sonic Youth,
Adolescents,
Cybotron,
The Grass Roots,
Vladislav Delay,
K-Klass,
Bobby Womack,
Tommy Roe,
Kool Moe Dee,
Visage,
Lucky Dragons,
Reagan Youth,
Wire,
Sun City Girls,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris Corsano,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
LL Cool J,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suicide,
Marvin Gaye,
PIL,
the Association,
Barrington Levy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.