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 Mozambique and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Donald Fagen 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 U.S. Maple to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
The Moleskins,
Vainqueur,
Bauhaus,
Jesper Dahlback,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pussy Galore,
The Victims,
Connie Case,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
June Days,
Little Man,
KRS-One,
New Order,
The Divine Comedy,
Blancmange,
Yazoo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hashim,
Chris Corsano,
Ponytail,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Godley & Creme,
Jeff Lynne,
K-Klass,
Al Stewart,
Hasil Adkins,
CMW,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rod Modell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dark Day,
Aloha Tigers,
New York Dolls,
T.S.O.L.,
the Soft Cell,
Harry Pussy,
These Immortal Souls,
the Association,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
One Last Wish,
Gang Green,
Dual Sessions,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Idris Muhammad,
Depeche Mode,
Kayak,
Fela Kuti,
The Fall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
Michelle Simonal,
Maurizio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Byrd,
The Pop Group,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.