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 Rwanda and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 spring reverb 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 Blossom Toes to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Panda Bear,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Juan Atkins,
The Sound,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Yusef Lateef,
ABC,
Soft Machine,
The Wake,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pole,
Cluster,
Zapp,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Kinks,
Wire,
The Gladiators,
Scott Walker,
Hasil Adkins,
AZ,
Dave Gahan,
Erasure,
The Slits,
The New Christs,
Bush Tetras,
Intrusion,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moss Icon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Public Enemy,
The Blackbyrds,
Desert Stars,
Cymande,
Surgeon,
Stetsasonic,
Malaria!,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kevin Saunderson,
David Axelrod,
The Monks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pantaleimon,
Con Funk Shun,
Kaleidoscope,
The Gun Club,
Barry Ungar,
The Fortunes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep,
Joe Finger,
The Angels of Light,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nirvana,
Icehouse,
Man Parrish,
Groovy Waters,
The Offenders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lucky Dragons,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.