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 Burundi and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 K-Klass to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Black Pus,
Lakeside,
Bang On A Can,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Visage,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skaos,
Carl Craig,
Marine Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Fluxion,
The Monks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Goldenarms,
Index,
The Cure,
Pere Ubu,
The Martian,
Motorama,
The Raincoats,
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gun Club,
Little Man,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Zero Boys,
Moss Icon,
Graham Central Station,
Make Up,
Suicide,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Vogues,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
Interpol,
Aural Exciters,
Fad Gadget,
Newcleus,
Judy Mowatt,
The Move,
Boredoms,
Black Moon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scientists,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Minnie Riperton,
The Five Americans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soul II Soul,
Absolute Body Control,
Bad Manners,
X-102,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Erasure,
Jerry's Kids,
Main Source,
Nick Fraelich,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.