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 Guinea-Bissau and from Spokane.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Camouflage,
Slick Rick,
Depeche Mode,
Sam Rivers,
Harmonia,
Radiohead,
Roger Hodgson,
Trumans Water,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joey Negro,
Goldenarms,
Agent Orange,
kango's stein massive,
The Black Dice,
Peter & Gordon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
Carl Craig,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Last Poets,
Shoche,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Infiniti,
Scratch Acid,
Jeru the Damaja,
Drive Like Jehu,
Severed Heads,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MDC,
The United States of America,
Oblivians,
H. Thieme,
Heaven 17,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Human League,
The Selecter,
Negative Approach,
Ice-T,
Radio Birdman,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultravox,
Los Fastidios,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Happenings,
Blancmange,
FM Einheit,
Gang Gang Dance,
Swans,
Cymande,
The Divine Comedy,
Swell Maps,
Anakelly,
Average White Band,
Sister Nancy,
The Knickerbockers,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.