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 Palau and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sisters of Mercy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 808 and a clarinet 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 linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Black Bananas,
Boredoms,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
The Velvet Underground,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ten City,
Avey Tare,
Barrington Levy,
The Modern Lovers,
John Foxx,
Excepter,
The Misunderstood,
Matthew Halsall,
Neu!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wasted Youth,
New Age Steppers,
Q65,
Mo-Dettes,
Warren Ellis,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
10cc,
Ornette Coleman,
Rotary Connection,
Eurythmics,
Scrapy,
The Fortunes,
Quantec,
Sex Pistols,
The Evens,
CMW,
Gang Green,
Pulsallama,
Urselle,
Spandau Ballet,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fad Gadget,
Metal Thangz,
Hasil Adkins,
Crash Course in Science,
The Human League,
Surgeon,
Patti Smith,
The Mummies,
The Beau Brummels,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Japan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sonic Youth,
Alison Limerick,
Symarip,
Average White Band,
Fatback Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Byrd,
Dennis Brown,
The Fire Engines,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.