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 Equatorial Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Skriet to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Index,
Dorothy Ashby,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
Icehouse,
Brick,
Tres Demented,
The Red Krayola,
Reuben Wilson,
Steve Hackett,
Lou Christie,
CMW,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Can,
The Associates,
FM Einheit,
Nils Olav,
The Cowsills,
Severed Heads,
Jandek,
Q and Not U,
Fluxion,
The Durutti Column,
Black Sheep,
China Crisis,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Wake,
Jawbox,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Moleskins,
Wolf Eyes,
Mr. Review,
The Fall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dennis Brown,
Scrapy,
Masters at Work,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Subhumans,
Bill Near,
the Sonics,
Mars,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Sonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mark Hollis,
The Gladiators,
Brothers Johnson,
Joey Negro,
Deakin,
Underground Resistance,
The Black Dice,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.