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 Chad and from Delhi.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the rock 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Half Japanese,
Eden Ahbez,
Icehouse,
Letta Mbulu,
Rosa Yemen,
Dawn Penn,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The United States of America,
Intrusion,
Nils Olav,
Erykah Badu,
Bush Tetras,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Young Rascals,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moby Grape,
Davy DMX,
Goldenarms,
Junior Murvin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ituana,
The Monks,
The Fall,
This Heat,
Tommy Roe,
Y Pants,
The Music Machine,
MDC,
Maurizio,
Gong,
Fela Kuti,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Slits,
Sex Pistols,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marvin Gaye,
Robert Görl,
EPMD,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kurtis Blow,
Negative Approach,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Flash Fearless,
Robert Wyatt,
the Soft Cell,
Simply Red,
Yazoo,
Idris Muhammad,
The Zeros,
Vladislav Delay,
Crispian St. Peters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camouflage,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.