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 Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Buckinghams to the dance 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Magazine,
Radio Birdman,
Marvin Gaye,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deakin,
X-102,
Porter Ricks,
The Fortunes,
The Cramps,
Kerrie Biddell,
Johnny Clarke,
Fugazi,
Dave Gahan,
The Skatalites,
Crooked Eye,
Country Teasers,
Wire,
June of 44,
Soulsonic Force,
Alphaville,
Lucky Dragons,
F. McDonald,
Mark Hollis,
Neil Young,
Kool Moe Dee,
Au Pairs,
Robert Hood,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unrelated Segments,
Saccharine Trust,
The Knickerbockers,
John Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio,
Jawbox,
Loose Ends,
Ultravox,
The Leaves,
Boredoms,
Gang Gang Dance,
Animal Collective,
E-Dancer,
Black Sheep,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bang On A Can,
Brick,
Dawn Penn,
Television,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yusef Lateef,
Pantytec,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Green,
Peter & Gordon,
John Cale,
The Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Can,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.