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 Jamaica and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Gil Scott Heron,
Magazine,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
the Sonics,
Soft Machine,
The Human League,
The Real Kids,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marshall Jefferson,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
Inner City,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tears for Fears,
The Trojans,
Nils Olav,
Nirvana,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pussy Galore,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Golliwogs,
The Monochrome Set,
Susan Cadogan,
Blake Baxter,
Main Source,
Radio Birdman,
Scion,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Lynne,
Freddie Wadling,
Mars,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Index,
the Germs,
The Slackers,
Masters at Work,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers,
The Seeds,
Joey Negro,
Saccharine Trust,
Metal Thangz,
Glenn Branca,
Alphaville,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Stetsasonic,
Pylon,
Q65,
Desert Stars,
Urselle,
Howard Jones,
Neu!,
Popol Vuh,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.