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 Spain and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar 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 Skatalites to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
A Certain Ratio,
June Days,
Grey Daturas,
Bob Dylan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Technova,
Davy DMX,
The Victims,
The Misunderstood,
L. Decosne,
Ornette Coleman,
The Human League,
the Association,
Tubeway Army,
Avey Tare,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things,
E-Dancer,
Arab on Radar,
Heaven 17,
Popol Vuh,
Clear Light,
UT,
Lou Christie,
Jeff Mills,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Moon,
Terry Callier,
Lightning Bolt,
Bronski Beat,
Ossler,
Angry Samoans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Desert Stars,
Chrome,
Vladislav Delay,
X-102,
Section 25,
T. Rex,
Accadde A,
The Evens,
Judy Mowatt,
Make Up,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Slave,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Electric Prunes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeff Lynne,
The Velvet Underground,
The Alarm Clocks,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Pus,
10cc,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Erasure,
Symarip,
Supertramp,
Livin' Joy,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.