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 Egypt and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joy Division to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Suicide,
The Cramps,
Flipper,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stiv Bators,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rapeman,
Crooked Eye,
Saccharine Trust,
Harry Pussy,
Joensuu 1685,
Todd Terry,
Hardrive,
Al Stewart,
John Cale,
A Certain Ratio,
The Toasters,
Joyce Sims,
China Crisis,
David Axelrod,
Isaac Hayes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Green,
The Residents,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Essential Logic,
Pylon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
The Trojans,
Sugar Minott,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Holt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Shuggie Otis,
Roger Hodgson,
Fugazi,
Albert Ayler,
B.T. Express,
Whodini,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
Donald Byrd,
The Fugs,
Con Funk Shun,
Archie Shepp,
Erykah Badu,
The Red Krayola,
MDC,
Marshall Jefferson,
Model 500,
Pussy Galore,
Hasil Adkins,
Josef K,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Sound,
The Offenders,
Gang Starr,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.